The Jo Collective
by xFemdomx
Summary: Vignettes about Jo's experiences hunting, scattered all over the Winchester's time line. Not in seasonal order, pick a chapter and read without having to read any of the other chapters. Each is a short story!
1. Fresh Blood

**DISCLAIMER:** This fanfic is for fun, I don't own anything!

**Note:** At first I published this episode a lot shorter, but afterwards I just kept building on it, so I added what I wrote later, I hope it meshed well!

* * *

Season 3

* * *

**Albany, New York**

It had taken me ten minutes to get his attention. It wasn't hard, I knew he would be the type to lurk at the bar, to stare out into the red lighted dance floor.

There was only three lurkers tonight; a young dark-skinned gentleman in a blazer, an attractive yet reserved man in his thirties and another younger man who wore pants that are perhaps too tight.

Now I had to wait and see which sought me out.

I did match the usual victim profile.

As a precaution to ensure his interest, I got all dolled up for the part; red lips, slim eyeliner on my lid, mascara lifting my lashes to black perkiness. I curled my hair and noticed how long it had been since I got it cut, it was near the small of my back now.

I wore skinny jeans, black ones that fit snuggly to my thighs, and a darkened purple glimmering thin strap top that covered my torso, lifting slightly before my black belt. No need for a bra. My thick-heeled black Steve Madden ankle boots I had found at a thrift store clad fashionably yet functionally to my feet.

I did enjoy dressing up for the part, there was fun to it and I let myself express my ego through it. Yeah, I looked hot. I'm admittedly vain, so what?

I danced on the edge of the floor, grouping myself with a band of taller women who had darker colored hair than my own.

Tight pants was talking to another man at the very first stool, drink in hand. Blazer was busy checking his phone.

Thirties guy had his eyes locked onto the crowd. Was he looking at me?

I affirmed he spotted me when he shifted to the third barstool instead of the seventh he was on, to get a better look at me.

Faking that fact that I was too hot to be on the dance floor one minute more, I shrugged past a light crowd, making sure I moved slowly enough for him to keep me in his line of sight.

Down the stairs, I threw myself at the bar, two stools down from him, breathing hard from the dance.

"You're quite the dancer."

Seriously? You're gonna one-line me like that?

"I _love _to dance." I smiled wide.

"What drink will you have?

He moved down a barstool closer to me.

"I donned a drink." I said with a slight slur, "Honestly I've hada few already. I just wish I had some _blooow_!"

I sang the last exclamation, giggling.

"I have something you might be interested in." He grinned.

I matched it, letting my hair flip over to tempt him, "Oh really?"

Next thing's next, I was walking out the door with him, my arms around his waist as if to support myself, and his arm slacked around my shoulder, leading me into an alley.

How cliche.

Once secluded in the alley, he smiled down at me, and said, "This new substance is…thicker than most."

I chuckled, "You're sick."

My left crept behind, to the pocket of my miniaturized purse slug over my torso and laying on my butt. Inside, I grabbed the syringe, dead man's blood waiting to poison the vamp in front of me.

He pulled the stopper out of the vial, the crimson fluid seemingly stagnant within.

"You ready sweetie?"

I drew myself closer to him, my nose rubbing against his shirt, against the midline of his body, trailing up to his neck and brushing my lips there. During this, my left raised behind him, lightly rubbing on the back of my hand that didn't grip the syringe.

"One taste of this, and you'll never be the-"

I brought the needle up and quickly down, intending to jab it into his neck.

He caught my wrist.

Fuck.

He started down at me, eyes alight with interest.

This situation just got very dangerous very fast.

Maybe I played this one too close-literally.

I thrust the heel of my palm into his nose, which stumbled him backward slightly, and tired to put distance between us, but he grabbed my throat with his other hand so fast, and backed me into the wall behind without even realizing that it had been near at all.

Talk about superhuman speed and strength.

"I smelled the Dead Man's blood as soon as you took it out of your purse."

I flexed and pushed all my strength to move the needle down, just to rake on his skin- but he slammed my wrist twice against the wall behind for it to drop and shatter.

I clawed at his supernaturally strong hand. His body offering no leverage keeping me pinned against it.

"I am two hundred and eleven years old, you really think a pretty Hunter like yourself hasn't tried this approach already?"

As he spoke my other hand not straining for freedom fumbled for my stained dead blood blade.

"Now, now." He grasped my escaping wrist with his large hand, and pinned it over my head as he looked me over, "Maybe not quite like yourself. You'll do perfectly, sweetie."

He nipped at my neck and I growled as he drew blood there and licked it, traveling to my ear, "yummy."

I shuddered, sickened.

I kept my jaws clamped, anger swelled at the unescapable situation.

"Your turn." He flicked his finger over a gruesome fang, blood swelling in response.

I writhed as he brought the finger closer to my lips-

"C'mon, sweetie."

A rough hand caught him at his wrist, before the blood could touch.

Vamp and I both turned to see the face attached to the hand.

Dean Winchester didn't hesitate to meet his other fist to the vampire's face.

The undead man fell into the momentum of the punch, collapsing into the wall diagonally away from me.

Another set of hands laid themselves on my shoulders, while Dean went head-long into the fight.

"Jo?"

"Sam?"

That shouldn't have been a question, where there was one Winchester the brother was soon to follow.

We turned our attentions to Dean's exchange of violences with the vampire, now behind me.

The creature wriggled out of the older Winchester's hold, spun around and threw his front body against the wall painfully.

The vamp took off then, and I didn't hesitate to follow, pulling out my father's Bowie knife that had been stained with the dead man's blood earlier.

"Dean!" I heard Sam say behind.

My eyes glued to his back, but he was moving so fast- he turned the corner-

"JO!" I heard Dean's echo against the tall walls surrounding them.

But when I turned another alley corner, there were two forms instead of one; with guns in their hands.

Vaguely, I knew them, I slowed from my run and the dim light of the night revealed more of their faces.

Kubrick and Gordon.

Any more hunters want to just show up for my first vamp kill?

"Jo?" Kubrick sounded utterly surprised.

"Why is everyone-" I panted as the brothers skidded to a halt just a few feet behind me, "here?"

Gordon stepped forward, directly staring at Sam beyond my left shoulder, and held out a Glock.

Woah, gun in my direction.

"JO!" Dean shouted just as Gordon got the first shot off.

He lunged behind a car, Sam followed, and I followed Sam, instinctively running from flying bullets from both Kubrick and Gordon.

Before I could hide from the shots behind it, my right elbow was slammed with pain. My legs continued, and my elbow hit the brick wall again, the force of it tremendously heavy and for a split second I acknowledged that it was probably broken.

"WHAT THE FUCK-" I shouted out the pain over the discharges, as we traveled down the length of the car, ducked.

Dean dropped, back against the graffitied wall, breathing heavily. Sam parked next to him, I did the same.

The gunfire ceased, and static buzzed in my ears.

My elbow was throbbing.

Why was it the second the Winchesters showed their faces, it added some kinda hell to my current situation?

Dean was peaking his eye out over the wall's corner, while Sam brushed glass off, and I tenderly inspected my elbow.

There was blood there, leaking out...

I heard the familiar quick clicks of two Glocks reloading in the alley behind the wall.

There was a hole in my jacket...this was no funny bone hit too hard.

Dean turned to us, head rolling on the wall.

"All right. Run. I'll draw them off."

"What?!" Sam protested, as Dean rolled his head back, "You're crazy!"

Before I could tell them I was shot, Dean was off.

Rapid firing compressed my eardrums once again. I had no choice but to go now.

My other hand clasped around the blood-slicked area, applying pressure and causing more blood to trickle. I got to my feet and ran back down the length of the car, from where we came, elbow agonized by the movement. Sam filed behind then stepped to match my shorter, frantic strides to escape.

"My car, this way!" I panted, turning to a new direction, and he followed.

By the time we reached my car, my body was experiencing symptoms of the inevitable. My skin was strangely cooled, my breathing staggered (not just from the running), and my knees weak.

"You drive. My keys are in my pocket."

Sam's eyes questioned me, until he saw the blood, "Jo!"

"I'm...shock." Was all I managed to say.

He rushed over to me, and my knees buckled, my weight against him.

I could feel him digging into my pocket, just as I could feel my eyes open, but I saw nothing. The static clouding my vision and the numb needling sensations harmonized and overwhelmed the rest of my body, and I was gone.

* * *

My hearing faded in first.

"Listen to my voice and tell me if I'm serious."

My first semi-delirious thought; Dean was serious.

_Snap._

"You really going to do that Dean?"

Sam's voice was frustrated, and concerned.

"You don't think she deserves it?" the elder expressed his own anger through inflection.

"She deserves whatever is coming for her, but murder?"

"It was _her_ choice to send _murderers_ after US, alright? It got Jo shot and could have gotten you or me killed, so yeah, what goes around comes around."

Right, I was shot.

I opened my eyes to find myself lying on a bare mattress. My jacket was off, my legs slightly elevated on a pillow, my elbow bandaged thoroughly. On the table beside me there were medical supplies, a bottle of alcohol, sewing meat hook, wire, and a plastic cup filled with clear liquid, holding a bullet inside of it.

"You got it out of me already." I said aloud.

The boys stopped their bickering.

"Jo," Dean sat by my feet, signaling me to stay down with a flat palm, "How are you feeling?"

Sam knelt beside the mattress to gingerly check my wound.

"Peachy keen."

"Take these. You'll feel the pain soon." Sam extended his palm, which laid one big white pill, the other held a bottle of water.

"I don't respond well to peer pressure, Sam." I said with a grimace, sitting myself up with my left arm to take them.

"So, girlie; your first bullet." Dean was grinning darkly, "how was it?"

I gave him a sour face, "Who says it was my first?"

He smirked wider, trying to make light of the situation, I knew.

I turned my attention to Sam, "What's the damage?"

"The bullet struck your Ulnar Nerve, it's why you passed out so hard."

"That and her cherry was popped."

"Shut up." I snapped.

"Luckily, the leather jacket slowed it down some, and it lodged in your skin, tore through your connective tissue and I'm guessing fractured the Medial Epicondyle, maybe the beginning of your Ulna too. You'll have to wear a brace or splint or sling."

"Healing time?"

"I dunno, seven weeks minimum? You should go to a hospital, Jo. You need the right thing to hold it while it heals, and I'm not exactly an expert."

I growled, "Could've fooled me, Doctor Sexy."

Dean quirked an eye-brow at me, "You watch-"

"Oh, come on, I know you watch it too." I furrowed my own brow back at him.

"So I guess Gordon's out of jail." I changed the subject, anger for my new injury setting in, "Thanks for the update."

I laid my eyes specifically on Dean on my last comment, hoping he got my dig about his lack of promised contact after learning about his last year alive.

"Relax, girlie, we're new to this info too." Dean glanced at her, crossing his arms.

"Don't call me that." I rejoined quickly, narrowing my eyes.

"So," Sam interjected our exchange, "We'll take you to the nearest hospital-"

"But the vamp-"

"Is not your hunt anymore. Didn't you hear the doctor? You're out of commission."

"Don't you think you have your hands full with the Grumpy Old Men?" I snapped.

"Speaking of the vamp," Dean spoke over my last words, ignoring them completely, "Do you have a death wish?"

"Excuse me?"

"Why do you insist on hunting things that prefer your cute little blonde profile?"

"Did you just call me cute?"

"That's what your taking away from that?"

"It's better than pretending to care about your lecture, _Dad._"

"Hey, if I hadn't-"

"E_nough_!" Sam shouted above our already elevated conversation with a slight smirk.

After a moment I spoke again, "I'm not going anywhere until I know that you two can handle the vamp _and_ Kubrick _and _Gordon."

"Jo, you need actual medical care-"

"Like you two always do and then never go to the hospital anyway? Stop treating me differently, you misogynist. I know how to take care of a bullet wound, if you remember."

I added another dig to both brothers this time. How quickly they forgot; I removed Dean's bullet myself after Meg (in Sam's body) shot him.

"Besides, it's not like you'll call to let me know you're alive."

Another dig.

Dean opened his mouth, but my throbbing elbow didn't put me in the mood to deal with his half-assed explanations, "I'll be fine right here, making sure you pricks make it out of this one alive, thanks."

The elder brother and I held a stare for some time.

"Fine." he said, a hard look about him, "but if you think you're going to try and sneak around to help us out-"

I smiled, playing with his guilt of no contact ended up getting me what I wanted, "Yeah, no way I'll be moving with that horse pill effecting me."

* * *

Hours later, Dean was sharpening his machete, and Sam cleaning his gun.

I was fading in and out of sleep on the mattress behind them, the shhingg of metal on stone strangely lulling.

When I faded in again, Dean was leaving.

"I'm gonna go check out a few places. Stay here with Sleepy and I'll be back soon."

When Sam turned my eyes were directly on him, "Hi."

"You're awake?"

"I fade in and out, feeling a bit energized right now though."

Sam nodded his head awkwardly, "Need water or anything?"

I picked up the bottle beside me, "I'm good thanks."

Sam then explained that Dean received a tip to where Gordon might be, and he was going to scout it out.

We found ourselves waiting for Dean's arrival swimming in awkwardness.

I hadn't seen Sam before this since he rose from the dead.

I was as weary about it then as I am now, and it was apparent in the air surrounding us. And there was the incident in Duluth, which I had forgiven him for after he repeatedly apologized. I know it wasn't his fault, he had been a victim of Meg's possession too, but every once in a while he would touch me and I would jump, a memory flashed of his body violently on mine.

Being alone with him wasn't exactly what most would call comforting. That piled on top of my chilled panic for their wellbeing now that Gordon was a newly made Vamp on the hunt for them_ and_ the effects of the pain pills had me sweating bullets.

It didn't help my nerves that the brothers were fighting, then having a touching moment, all in front of me. I pretended like I was asleep for most of it, knowing that they needed their brotherly bonding and dealing time now that Dean's year was running out. I had to bite my tongue about the subject too, and hide the tears that flooded to my eyes at the thought of it.

* * *

The brothers dealt with the trouble, as they always did, less than smoothly.

They were both bloodied and beat when they returned to the emptied and mattresses room, but they were alive, and I was happy to have seen parts of it through with them, to know that they were alive.

Before they hit the road one way and I went the other, I was on my feet and off the drugs, saying my good-byes.

Sam was first, awkwardly bending over to level with me, telling me the usual to take care of myself, rest the elbow and such.

Dean was last, wrapping my body perfectly against his, chin at the top of my head.

"Straight to Bobby's, alright? Don't chase after jobs you can't handle, newbie." He warned with a certain smugness, "I can't always be there to save you."

I tilted my head in annoyance at the name and context, "I'm not your damsel, Deano. I can handle more than you think."

"Sure, whatever you say. Just don't get yourself killed."

"How would you know anyway? It's not like you ever actually check up."

He met my eyes for longer than usual, "I will this time."

I scoffed, "Sure."

I glanced away then back at him, but he was still staring at me.

"Just don't go popping anymore cherries without me, alright, girlie?" he winked slyly.

"Don't call me that." I punched his shoulder with my good arm, "And I'll do whatever I want to."

"And I'll call to check up on that." he said, smiling widely as he sat himself inside his black beauty, then took off, thundering down the road with two last farewell waves.

He didn't.


	2. Partner Up

**DISCLAIMER:** This fanfic is for fun, I don't own anything!

* * *

Season 5

* * *

Eyes fixed, body limp, mind without sensation; I watched him eat dinner with his new family.

New family.

That thought sank; perforating down, through my core.

Looks like that punch I swung when we first met had finally been returned with hard interest, sinking deep in my gut.

I had thought dying would have hurt more by comparison.

Well I did die, not a few weeks before, and it was a completely different kind of wrenching feeling. Before Cas pulled me from that abyss with a soft touch of finger to forehead, it felt physically gruesome, as if passing through the dimensions between Earth and Hell was through the sink disposal.

This felt as if I was dumped in hypothermic water, it flooded lungs and constricted my body to a frozen stiffness. I'd be damned if my lips weren't blue from the sight before me.

After his brother saved the world from Lucifer, he was so tore up about it, so detached, so sad…

At the time I understood, after Ash I needed time, after Mom was taken I needed to be alone, to deal.

When he asked for it in his own way, I gave that time to him.

He told me he would call, that we would see each other soon.

We parted with a kiss, crushing our lips together quickly before running out from Bobby's front porch into the rain and to our separate cars.

I was clueless to any other outcome.

Lisa and her son had been mentioned in conversations sparsely. I really only new that Ben was kidnaped by a Changeling mother years ago, and Dean had shared a fly by weekend with her many years previous to that. Given their past relationship, Dean was quiet about it around me, and Sam and Bobby hardly brought it up if Dean wasn't going to.

I didn't even know this was an option for him, didn't even know they were important to him.

Never had I expected he would end up there; living the normal life with them that I dreamt of so ardently with him.

He didn't even tell me.

He didn't even say good-bye.

I had thought we were closer than that. I had thought we were family, and more than that, lovers.

Did I mean anything to him?

No, I shouldn't think like that, I knew I did, the feeling was too natural. We have always had…something. Even if at first I was just a school girl to him, everything we had been through together lifted me up in his book. I knew he felt the same for me, it was an unexplainable connection that was between us.

So why was he here?

Why didn't he say a word?

Why did he choose her over me?

That was the question that suck above all others. That was the question that drove the icepick through the middle of my chest.

The tears were streaming fast down my face, my crying noises small and breathy. I didn't even care.

Watching him with them was too much, and I got an urgent itch to leave, to curl up in a motel, watch Buffy and breakdown.

"Jo?" a voice spoke behind me, impossibly.

I turned to him, mind already frozen.

There he was, supposedly weeks dead, standing under a flickering street light. He had come to see his brother.

How many shocks can I receive in one night? A smile automatically came to face; he was alive!

"_Sam…_"

My sobbing immediately stopped, my smile closed quickly to focus on the new threat.

Weary, I pulled out my Beretta.

Sam didn't make a move, not even to gesture for me not to shoot.

"You're in the pit."

"Obviously not."

"You're not Sam."

"I am. I'm just as confused as you, Jo, I don't know how I'm here or why."

His voice was more direct, his body langue stiff.

I pulled out my flask and threw the holy water inside at his body.

The younger Winchester didn't flinch. He wasn't steaming or screaming either.

Check one, not a Demon.

Sam held out his forearm arm, rolling up the sleeve and extended plainly in the still flickering light. He took a knife from his belt and drew it slowly across, red swelled to the opening of his skin.

Check two, not a monster.

My gun lowered slightly, a sob almost breaking through to my face. I forced it down, swallowing deep. Just a few minutes more, just keep it down until I was in a safer situation.

"And the silver?" my voice strained, due to my uncontrollable body shakes.

Sam gave me a look, "That was silver knife. Jo," he took a step toward me, "it's me."

I felt my entire body contract into a cry again, tears of joy and sorrow mixing and effecting my facial muscles. It broke though, and from there the ball rolled into emotional toils.

I returned my gun to it's holster, and closed the short distance between us. My head fell on his sternum, my arms around his waist. His height was a small comfort, maybe because it made me feel wrapped and secure. As if he was my dad and I was a little girl again.

"Sam, I can't- believe- your- alive!" I gasped through tears and his shirt, my arms tightening around his body to root him there.

His arms slowly copied mine, his body still stiff.

"Are you alright?" his voice sounded low and uncertain.

I shook my head, forehead pressing into the top of his sternum. Pulling my face away, I looked up at his and loosed my grip on his body.

"Are you?" I asked.

"I'm fine." He responded, arms still around me.

"But the cage-"

"Let's not talk about that." Sam rejoined me firmly.

I gulped down bile. It seemed the Winchester brothers never wanted to talk about what was going on with them. It hurt me all over again, another wave swept over me and poured out my eyes.

Apparently I wasn't a 'sister' to him as much as he was a brother to me. Much like how I thought Dean and I were more than this.

I wiped them away quickly, if these two men didn't regard me enough to share, then they didn't deserve to see my emotional reaction either.

Right now they could go fuck themselves.

I stepped out of his arms, which fell back easily to his sides, and finished wiping away my leaks.

"When you tell Dean, let him know I'm happy for him." I couldn't help to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

I changed my tone, remembering how glad I was that Sam was out of Hell, that he was living. Feeling my face contort again, I lunged and gripped him again, pulling him into a hug, on my tiptoes.

"I'm so happy you're alright Sam, really I am."

"Thanks, me too."

His voice drifted down to my ear.

I pulled away completely, letting the tears fall unchecked.

"I'm gonna get out of here." I sniffed, turning on my feet as quickly as I could.

I can't handle this situation, everything was too much.

"Keep in contact alright? You better have me on speed dial." I offered a smile, with no feeling.

"Jo," my name from his lips stopped me in my fleeting tracks, "I'm not here to talk to Dean."

"What?"

Sam swallowed, "Well, before all of it, I wanted Dean to have a life, a real one. I made him promise me. And he did it, surprisingly. He's always wanted a normal life, now he can have it, now he can be happy."

With each word he spoke I felt another stab to my chest, the constriction pulling as if tightening a corset. My stomach experienced a darker form of butterflies.

I should just walk away.

When Sam saw my face he blinked once, his eyes questioning.

"Sorry." he added as an afterthought.

I inhaled, fighting to keep it in until I was in the bed, curled up to Buffy on my laptop.

I cleared my throat, "So, uh, you're just not going to tell your brother you're alive?"

Sam shook his head.

I laughed while crying, "You guys are so fucked up."

"Yeah. I guess so."

"What? So you were just going to watch him?"

"And what were you doing?"

I felt my jaw open in silence.

Sam's head tilted back to the window, where she followed his gaze.

The new family was cleaning up their dinner now, completely unaware of observers. Ben took his dish into an unseen room, leaving Dean and Lisa to speak, lean over and kiss each other lightly.

I sucked in a breath through my nose and jerked my eyes away, my boots, the ground, the light that was still flickering, then to Sam's face.

Oddly, he was already looking at me.

"Hunt with me."

I held my breath for a moment, not expecting his statement to be spoken so abruptly, so out of context.

What is it with the Winchesters and not being able to deal with a situation? Why do they just throw themselves at the next job, or in Dean's case now; woman?

"Sam, I think we both need some time-"

He shook his head, "Come on Jo, Hunting is what we'll always return to, you know that. You once told me that Hunting was what made you feel close to your dad, that must be true for you and your mom too. And even after that, after everything that the supernatural has thrown at us, you know you're not going to stop."

His words were direct and uncoated, giving way to a single silent tear from my eyes.

"Why dwell with time when we could be out there saving people, and hunting things?"

"Why do you want to partner with me?" I snapped.

He shrugged his shoulders, "Safety in numbers, you're a great hunter, company: take your pick."

I shuffled my weight onto my other leg, biting my lip in uncertainty.

Was this their magical cure? Hunt and kill the pain away?

Undoubtably there is anger pent up inside me collected from my past, and now was fixing to boil soon, after my shocking discovery today. It would be good to take that out and save lives. Why waste that time so no other person would have to endure what I have my entire life.

Sam was right, I was kidding myself if I thought I was ever just going to walk away from hunting. It is my life, really all that I've known or wanted to do. There was no way I was going to live out life behind a white picket fence when I knew what was prowling outside of them.

"Alright." was my curt answer, tears drying, "let's partner up."

Sam grinned, the feature of it shadowed - the flickering light just above him had finally gone out with a hiss.

"Thank you, Jo."

I nodded, shortly, the wetness drying on my face. I couldn't look at through the window anymore, couldn't stand to see the man I loved in a new family. I was seriously desperate to get out of here.

"So, your ride or mine?"


	3. Hormonal Harpy

**DISCLAIMER: **This fanfic is for fun, I don't own anything from Supernatural or VHS.

**Note:** If anyone has ever seen VHS, I was inspired by it in this chapter. When I saw the first story play out, I couldn't help but to wonder how it would have gone if Soulless Sam and Jo had been there.

* * *

In between Season 5 and 6

* * *

The music and the voices were loud, the stink including hops, popcorn, peanuts and general human sweat.

Bar number three and the only thing that really changed since our first was the layout, the theme and the age group.

I guess I can't ask for much more from dive bars.

One dead and another missing in three weeks, both having gone on this locally popular three-bar crawl. Both at night, one body half-eaten and fallen from an impossible height near nowhere to fall off of. The other was never seen again. But it was the witness statements that really caught our attention: a giant bird carried off both Vics. Local investigation claim a massive Golden Eagle has perched in the woods beyond town, starting to get a taste of human flesh.

Our experience gave us a different lead; same taste though.

Sam sat next to me, his elbows resting on the wooden island counter in front of us, eyes alert and searching. I leaned against counter myself, Amaretto and Coke in hand; a thin red straw at my lips to suck at it. I convinced him I had needed it for cover, it would look strange, not to drink at a bar, besides, this stakeout was getting tedious.

"Maybe we should circle back to the one with the live band." I suggested over the music, it's video flashing just above us on an annoyingly large mounted TV.

He shrugged, "We haven't looked enough in here."

I growled, "This thing's camouflage is insane."

Sam nodded, eyes still on the people.

"How the hell are we supposed to know?"

"We'll know."

"The only ticks in their disguise is wide eyes, slight vertical crease in her forehead, wing bruises on her back and her crazy-ass dragon feet. Everyone I see is wearing shoes, most covering their back, all the foreheads in here are funky, and just how do we classify 'big eyes'? People watching is fun and all, I just don't want to gank a girl because our perception of them fits."

I hoped my, 'we're looking for it, so we might make ourselves see it when it actually isn't there' argument made him think.

"Well if we do then we know it's not her."

I stared at Sam for a moment, letting his comment sink in.

They had become so common, I had recently given up on digging deeper into why he was acting like a dick all the time.

Was this is way of letting me know (because he would refuse to fucking talk about it) that hell had actually phased him? Was he so desensitized to murder from Hell that it carried over?

That thought made me uneasy.

I decided to drop it, months of working with him and being in his company taught me things were better if I just kept him in check when the action comes around, while we were waiting for it he could say what he liked. It wasn't as if he was every going to reveal how he felt to me.

There was definitely a change in him, a colder voice and direct demeanor than the Sam before hell. Then again, there was a change in Dean too, I remembered. His was more of a dark brooding kind, though. Not this 'only looking out for myself' attitude.

Maybe it was a defense that he hadn't quite worn off yet. He had been caged with two pissed-off angels after all. His was a sickly special kind of hell.

No matter how he changed, though, I felt nowhere safer than hunting beside him.

Glancing to the stairs, hearing familiar voices.

The rowdy group of three men from the bar before had just strode down them, hooting and drunk.

I rolled my eyes, the taller and most attractive of them, dropped a one-liner on me earlier in the night. When Sam stepped back to my side from the bathroom however, he split immediately.

The man was obnoxious and overconfident, it annoyed me how the cliché jock even had the shorter, awkward friend with the clunky glasses that he kept touching self-consciously.

Not a few minutes later he was at the bar, picking up another woman with dark hair, his two friends following diligently behind.

I shifted my attention back around the room, searching for any woman looking the least bit out-of-place, sucking down another generous gulp of my drink.

"You think she would make it easy on us and go barefoot?" I shouted to my partner.

"Maybe. She could be hiding her feet in shoes."

"Hey, t-two of your finest Irish shit." I heard a drunk woman sound loudly from the bar.

"I'm going to make a round." I told him, draining the liquid, and leaving the glass empty on the wood.

Sam nodded his understanding, and took a swig of his beer; posting up.

I started on the far right corner, my back facing the wall and my eyes fixated on women's faces. I followed the wall from there, passing under a stone pillar and booths all opened to the center dance floor.

Directly across from the bar, I saw the three rambunctious men, talking to and equally numbered group of girls. I was too far to hone in on their faces, I would wait to examine them when I got closer.

So far all the women dancing didn't fit the part. Eyes and feet too small, no abnormal forehead creases.

My eyes wandered, lustful to the attractive men. The drink, as it usually acted on me, effected my libido.

Forcing focus, I kept on, bordering the area and passing the stairs, reaching the bar that claimed the north side.

Nada.

Glancing back to the south, I saw the blue-shirted man in Group Obnoxious was laughing to the point of shortening his air supply, lifting some girl into the air and drunkenly spinning on the dance floor. Bulky Glasses was talking to a pale woman perching on the dark booth chair.

Woah.

She was completely visible, even from this distance, directly under a light. Her eyes were big; big enough to be animated. In between her wide set eyes was a faint crease, right down the middle. She was thin, black hair thick. I checked her feet; easy peasy.

How did no one notice that?

I snapped my head to my partner, who was still posted; beer finished.

Cutting through the dance floor, I was held up by Blue shirt getting surrounded by bouncers. Reaching the wooden island, I stood on the open side, directly opposite to Sam.

"I found her."

"Where?"

"There." I turned, and pointed, "What the-"

She wasn't there.

I whirled my eyes to find Mr. Glasses going up the stairs, security herding his Blue-shirt friend out. At his side was the Harpy.

"Stairs!"

I moved, cutting across to the exit.

We were delayed by the mass of people filing into the only exit to watch security rough up some guy. They were already up to the street, I hoped they wouldn't get in a taxi.

When we finally rushed to the street, they were gone.

Damn it.

"Hey excuse me!" I approached some girls who I had seen with the girl in red obviously going home with Mr. Obnoxious himself.

"Excuse me!" I spoke over their drunken giggles, "Your friend in the red, where did she go?"

"Who'sasking?" the blonde's words ran together.

I naturally flipped out a badge, "FBI Special Agent Cronin. The man your friend went home with is a known criminal, now I ask again; where did she go with him?"

The blonde grew suddenly serious, I tucked my badge away.

"I'll call her."

"Do that."

I stayed rooted, knowing she wasn't the most coherent right now. Sam stepped up, acting perfectly stiff as my Bureau partner.

"She's not answering."

"Text her." Sam directed.

The girl fumbled, and he extended his large hand, "We're taking this phone for an investigation."

"But-" he snatched it with deft fingers, and started to text himself, walking in the direction of his car.

"You'll be reimbursed." I said in passing, at Sam's side.

"I sent a text, but I have her number, so we'll hack into her GPS. So, Lisa is our Harpy?" He asked, reading off the contact name.

"No, she's going home with a guy who was with Glasses all night on the crawl."

"Glasses is...?"

"The guy the Harpy was leaving with."

"Alright."

We got into his Dodge Charger, and he handed me the phone while pulling out his tablet to begin the hacking and tracking. I couldn't help but feel cool; my partnership with Sam was synced. He never questioned what I saw as my mother tended to do, nor did he ignore me because I had less experience than he, like Dean.

* * *

We found her location.

The Challenger rumbled up to the hotel, stopping abruptly into an empty space outside.

We stepped out, our weapons hidden, getting curious looks from the men standing by their white pick-up a couple of spaces over.

"Which room?"

"GPS isn't that accurate."

"The staff?"

"Worth a try."

We headed to the dingy lobby with two women and painted yellow walls.

A man suddenly burst into sight, slicked with blood and in his boxers, screaming repeatedly, "PLEASE LET ME IN!"

Sam and I sprung into action; he popped the trunk, I rushed to Glasses, who was now running towards the tuckers.

"OH, GOD! HELP ME-"

"HEY!" I shouted at him, before the Harpy stepped into view just by the office door.

There was a large rift splitting down from tip of her nose to top of her head: a second sharply bone-ridged vertical mouth. As if her fanged rows of teeth in her first mouth weren't enough. She was naked, and soiled in blood.

I drew my Beretta, and fired into her chest.

She roared.

I positioned myself in front of her intended snatchee (Glasses) and fired again to her second mouth, between the eyes.

She flinched harshly, and screamed, curdling my blood. The harpy, pissed, was sprinting for me now, fleshy wings extending from her back as she did.

"Fuuuck." I hummed as fired again, but she still came, "SAM!"

She leapt, talons extended, and gripped my shoulder, her wings gaining air beneath them.

They dug into my left shoulder, hooking the meat there. I shouted and was abruptly in the air, my legs kicking by instinct. Glasses was in grasped by her left claws and held onto by both her arms while her wings did the work.

They beat once, twice, thr-

She let another shrill scream overtake the air as a thick-ass arrow sunk and caught on her wing. The arrow had a thicker rope attached, and Sam was on the other end, having tied it to the car and was now re-loading the large cross-bow.

We were already loosing altitude, the weight of both me and Glasses was wearing on her new injury and leash.

Her claws released me.

I fell, terrified to hit the concrete. Instead, I crashed down into the metal hood of a car, denting it with my body slightly.

Pain overwhelmed me, but I blinked back those tears and choked down the cough to aim up and fire again into the Harpy. She screeched again, dropping Glasses and stopping her flight altogether.

Her feet now on the pavement, Sam started at her with a machete.

I scooted down the car stiffly, making eye contact with the trucker, who had rushed to Glasses's side after he fell.

"GET OUT OF HERE!"

They obeyed immediately, and I got myself back on the ground.

I couldn't get a shot off with out the risk of hitting Sam, so I ran to the car, and grabbed my machete.

When I turned to the fight Sam had been thrown to the white truck, and the Harpy was chewing through her leash.

I ran, machete raised to chop.

She kicked me to the floor with incredible force, and ran down a hall studded with hotel room doors.

I got up, seeing Sam had also gotten to his feet and was now sprinting after her.

I did the same.

She took a wrong turn and dead-ended herself at an ice machine and vending machines.

I charged in, while Sam had faced off.

She hissed and I swung, she ducked and I was caught vulnerable.

The harpy slammed me into a popcorn wall, both sets of teeth flashing to my face.

From behind I saw Sam rear his machete back like a bat, glinting in the florescent lights.

His look told me to duck, I did, compressing my head as far down as I could while her clawed hand was breaking skin on my sternum.

The action followed through, showering my backside with blood Harpy blood, and the machete suck to the wall just above me. The head dropped and rolled at my feet.

Lovely.

I straightened, breathing heavy, and took a moment to internally celebrate the hunt's finality.

Sam stood over it's corpse, opposite to me.

I hated how much I wanted him right then.

Both of us had heavy lungs and a large need for air from the fight.

I felt somewhat light headed, my back against the dirty hotel hallway wall.

He stepped over the dead Harpy, directly to place himself in front of me.

Sam's eyes left mine for a tense lingering look at my body.

Fuck.

I had meant to get laid so this situation wouldn't happen, but we had been so busy, researching this Harpy. Neither of us having faced one before, it took up all of our time here.

And hard work made me in need of a certain release…I never did feel it's calling more than after a hunt.

Maybe it was the close brushes with death that gave me the thrill.

I found myself also eyeing his thighs, long and lithe and strong, his pants fit and halfway pitched. It drew a tongue and my teeth out over my bottom lip, feeling them plumpen. At his torso I heaved in a breath and held it, as if afraid to breath in his face.

Sam was suddenly very close, I realized, his tall body bent over my short form.

I gulped and cleared my throat, small protests of instinct. But man, did my body feel that thick air between our middles.

"Sam…" I spoke his name, realizing that I had made a mistake, sexual partners liked to hear their name from the intended.

No. Fuck, I can't do this…But I still I didn't move when Sam dove right into the pool without testing the water first.

I felt his dick in the crease of my right hip, my body tingled when his hand possessed the back of my neck, the other had hauled me up holding me on his underside arm, and applying pressure on my front to keep me there.

His lips didn't crash into mine until he pulled my limp neck into it, after my gasp of surprise. He was warm, his lips aggressive, and his dick hardening.

For a hot minute it was delicious.

Then the loathing feeling returned.

Pushed his chest back, heel of my hand firm, "Sam, we can't."

"Sure we can." but he did not move to kiss me again.

"I don't think we should get caught up in the-uh-energies bouncing around after a kill."

He grinned smugly, "Why not? Obviously there is a desire, so why don't we just act on it?"

"There's conflict here, alright?"

"What, my brother?"

I stiffened, "Let go of me."

Sam let out a light chuckle, "Jo, he's living with Lisa and her _son_. You shouldn't wait around for him."

I fell out of his hold, my boots touching the asphalt again. Ducking under his tall body to march away, determined not to give into my hyper libido.

"Jo, its just sex!" He followed me, wrenching his machete from the wall and stashing it in the sheath strapped to his back, "Why can't we just give each other some release?"

I bent over to grab my machete.

Sheathing it across my back, I turned to Sam again, and a shock of tingles pooled themselves over me when I turned into his lips, his hands grasping my hair, firmly tugging there to deepen the kiss.

My eyes rolled quickly closed and my drive burst forward, as aggressive as he. It felt so wonderful, so inebriating. We sucked, we nipped, we enveloped each others lips, working some long-awaited exercise.

When he hoisted me up I hardly noticed all other sensation besides that of his hardened crotch, he began to kiss and bite my neck and downward, reaching the top of my breasts and earning an arch to my back.

My libido spoke softly to me; technically, I've already had sex with him.

My lips stopped moving against his at the memory, it flashed unpleasantly and unwillingly to mind.

I jerked away, pressing my spine completely into the wall behind me.

Sam wasn't deterred, his mouth back on my neck as I squirmed in his hold again, suddenly acutely aware.

"What is it now?" Sam's hot breath spoke over moist areas he had kissed.

"We have to get out of here." That was also true, "The witnesses would have called the police by now."

He dropped me, "Right."

At a hotel far away from the one we beheaded the Harpy at, we sauntered in, tired from the job.

"I'm going to take a shower, get the blood out of my hair."

Sam smiled devilishly, "May I join?"

My breath caught, so tempted to just let it happen, my body was aching for it...though my mind keeps telling me no. I had to trust that instinct.

"I think we should try and, uh, keep sex out of our partnership."

He looked at me and held the intensity that passed between us.

It flashed me back, in that one instant, to Duluth again, the way Meg had looked at me through his eyes. My mind and body tensed up, as if preparing for Sam to force himself of me.

Instead, Sam dropped the eye contact and chuckled, "I don't get why you're so hard on yourself Jo."

I, in turn, dropped my defenses with an exhale, though the wariness still remained, "Me neither."

"Alright. Whenever you change your mind..."

"You'll be right here."

He offered a half-smile, "Right."

"Right."


	4. Burn Out the Day

**Disclaimer: **Purely fanfiction, these characters and storyline and some dialogue belongs to the writers and creators of _Supernatural_.

**Note: **So my inspiration is jumping around a lot when it comes to Jo's character. Recently, I wanted to write a younger Jo, one who was almost completely different from the years older version with Soulless Sam, but don't worry I have much planned for that Jo yet to come.

* * *

Season 2

* * *

My phone was vibrating annoyingly on the dash.

Flickering my eyes away from the road momentarily, I snatched it and checked the little screen to see who was calling.

_**Deano **_

Holy shit.

The Winchester was actually calling me.

I should expect for him not to call me more often, maybe then he would defy that. Just as I accepted that he really wasn't going to, he does. What an ass, always going against my predictions.

My hands loosened on the wheel and the car dipped slightly over the lane.

Woah, way to be unsafe, Jo.

I pulled the car over to gravel, the phone still vibrating in ring.

Parked, I flipped the phone open, and answered, a small smile creeping uncontrollably to my lips.

"Well hey there, stranger."

"Jo?" His voice sounded strangely relieved.

"Where are you?" he demanded, his tone dropped my smile immediately.

"Kansas, what's going on?"

"Jo...you, uh, you better get to the Roadhouse."

The body dunked in ice, "Dean, what's happened? Is my Mom alright?"

"We're...we're not sure."

"Ash?"

The other end produced no sound other than wind.

"Jo..."

My throat caught, sudden fearful tears springing, "Give me a couple of hours, I'll be there."

I snapped the phone shut, slammed the parking break down and spun around, driving down the road with a new ferocity.

* * *

_3 and 1/2 hours later..._

The smell of burnt wood was what came to me first: the fire was smoldering. Another scent latched to the burning one, but it wasn't wood...flesh.

My stomach clenched.

My blue Honda Civic peeled around the green leaf bush marking the corner, and skidded to a park next to the Impala. Dean seemed to be recovering from something.

I jumped out, leaving the door ajar and the car beeped it's protest.

"Jo..."

Bobby's voice faded, distant compared to the soft crackling of wood. The forward of my boot gained quick traction against the gravel, and I was sprinting to the remnants of my home.

"Jo!" Dean called this time.

Ignoring them I flew to the rising wisps of smoke.

I had to find them, they were here, somewhere in the rubble. I had to save them, they needed me.

Crunching sets of boots followed behind, and Bobby's hand gently grabbed my arms, "Jo, you don't need to see that."

I twisted to face him, and wretched my limbs from his reach, incoherently sobbing.

Spinning back, I was hardly deterred from the Roadhouse ashes.

That was the bar, Ash's room just over there...

Tears dropping readily, my vision blurred and was suddenly whirled away from my dead, smoldering home. A set of burly arms had arrested me, clamping around my middle and were lifting my feet off the ground with a scuffle of gravel and dirt.

"MOM! ASH! LET ME GO." I struggled; squirming, kicking, and shouting at him, all while sucking down heaps of crying breaths.

I screamed words incomprehensible.

"Hey," Dean's voice firmed in my ear.

I did not give up my panic to fight out of his hold. He held me tight against his front, gripping me so hard it hurt, forcing me to look the blue and black Impala just in front of us instead of searching for my family.

"HEY!" he shouted over my distraught ramblings of release, his arms jolting my body in a wakening shake.

I stopped, abruptly dead weight as the sobbing quietly raked my body.

Dean held me still.

"I'm so sorry Jo." He whispered, breath moving my hair, "I'm so sorry. Ash knew something and Yellow-eyes did this to stop him from telling us."

The ripping in my chest refused to stop, and I let it all crash down on me, uncaring.

Ash. I had just seen him, not two weeks ago, and my mother...I visited for my birthday.

That slammed a new wall of bricks to the heart, and tears afresh.

"Listen," he turned me to face him, quickly, his palms closing around my face, thumbs light on my cheeks, the rest of his fingers rough, "Listen to me."

He forced his green irises on me, voice slightly soothing.

"I know this is terrible, but the evil that did this is still out there, and if we don't go now we might not make it in time to stop him. We need to go, and you're coming with us, yeah?"

I nodded my head in his hands, unable to secure words from my constricted throat.

"Alright, let's go." He took my hand and dragged me away from the burned.

Bobby, who had been busy throwing my weapons bag and backpack into Impala's back seat, took my shoulders then, in a short, sad and meaningful hug. I returned it, weakly.

"Your Mom wasn't in there, Jo. She could be alive, and if she is we'll find her, I promise."

He released me, and jumped into the Impala.

How could they be so detached, still so focused on the job?

I opened the back door, numb, and it groaned in response. Clicking the door shut behind me, I curled my knees into my chest, holding them there as if to hold in the shot to my heart.

My eyes stared unblinking to the wreck that was once my home as Dean peeled away by Bobby's instruction.

This couldn't be real.

* * *

By the time Dean pulled up to a mess of shrubbery warding off vehicles, my eyes held no more tears, my cheeks tightened by the surplus salt that dried there.

I had isolated myself from the two men in the front seat, remaining silent no matter how many questions they aimed for me the entire stretch of the road to wherever the hell we were. I was sure they tried to fill me in on what was happening too. Wether they did or they didn't; I wasn't listening. It was as if they weren't really even there.

I didn't care.

The numbness of my body had infected my mind, leaving it simply tasked.

This wasn't real, but I will kill the demon who caused it.

Maybe this was what it felt like to be a Winchester.

I stepped out into the night, with the two, staring where the headlights shone.

"Well, it looks like the rest of the way is on foot."

I was already turned and zipping open my weapons bag as Dean and Bobby stocked up from the trunk.

"We're dealing with Demons here," Dean spoke loudly to reach my ears, "Stick to salt rounds, shot guns, and iron."

He was saying it for me, I knew, and I felt a sudden flash of anger overwhelm. I was less experienced than he, but I did know what to bring to a demon fight.

I said nothing, though, keeping my silence.

My father's iron-hilted knife strapped to my thigh, Ka-bar companion blade on its opposite (just in case), an Ithaca sawn-off in my hands and salt rounds packed neatly into a black fanny pack; I was set.

I shut the door and looked to the guys for direction.

Bobby handed me a flashlight, trying to meet my eyes.

I avoided that, he would only make me remember that I cared.

Dean loaded and cocked his shot-gun, "Let's go."

We hurried into the bushes, which soon turned into a dirt path, guns drawn at the darkness, waiting for anything to pop out.

"SAM!"

Dean started calling.

So Sam was here, with demons.

Funny how the younger always associated with them when I encountered him.

The memory of Duluth gave more anger to the entire demon population. Rape me, and murder my brother?

I was going to fucking kill them all.

"SAM!"

We rounded the corner of a wooden building on our right, to another, more compacted dirt road.

There, in the stark light, a tall form walked ahead of us, nursing a shoulder.

"Sam."

"Dean."

Suddenly, another man that had been lying in the mud sprung up- dirtied blade expertly held in hand.

He lunged at Sam's back.

"SAM, LOOK OUT!"

The younger brother's face contorted as the blade sunk deep.

We broke into a run.

"NO!"

Dean stopped to catch Sam, Bobby and I sprinted on, after the stabber.

I hoped he was a demon.

"JO!" Bobby yelled, and I automatically stopped, realizing he wasn't at my stride anymore.

He was paces behind me, and I cursed him for not continuing my hunt. I was itching to kill.

"Head back, they need us."

I followed his instruction with action; turning back and running to the brothers.

* * *

Sam was dead.

Dean just stood in the threshold, staring at the body laying inside on a dampened blue spring mattress.

I sat in one of the chairs, picking my nails with my knife, drawing blood under some nail beds. It wasn't accidental, but neither was it purposeful.

I had tried to console him, to connect in the losses we both received today, but he had no words for me. I didn't have much for him either.

Our brothers were dead. What was there to say?

So we sat in silence.

When Bobby returned and brought up burial, Dean's anger was explosive.

Watching the stages progress as someone who was one step ahead was terrible. I felt that anger, I knew how he felt; mine was just implosive, harder to detect, unlike his obvious upset.

If only I had been at the Roadhouse, I would have stopped it. Or burned down with them.

Either was better than this outcome.

When Bobby left, I went too.

Dean was never one to accept comfort and emotional aid.

I climbed into Bobby's truck, knees tucked to my chest again.

He didn't start the engine.

"Jo, you doin' alright?"

I turned to him, letting my knees fall to proper seating arrangement.

Clearing my throat, I chose to speak for the first time in hours, "No."

It came out a whisper, but Bobby heard.

"I know. I'm so sorry kiddo."

It was as if speaking had brought back the flood, the beginnings of it spilled over my lower lashes, streaking my cheeks, "I just-"

I wiped the first two away, and sniffed the mucus back up, wishing they would just let me talk, "If I hadn't left them - if I had been there with them - I would've saved them, Bobby. I-"

The dam broke down, and Bobby slid over the seat, taking my streams into his shoulder. His hand rubbing my back in compassion.

"No, no, Jo. If you were in there, we would have said good-bye to one more person today. You think we could have handled that?"

I choked into his flannel, "Bobby, I- I..."

"Don't you blame yourself for one minute, you understand? Don't you do that."

By the time the tears were mostly spent, I found my eye-lids heavy, and my body limp.

Bobby slid me so that I was still lying on his shoulder while he turned the engine over and drove off on the dark road, which faded from my memory.

* * *

**Note: **I always wondered why they didn't call Jo or even mention her when they found the Roadhouse burnt down! I think that would be something even Dean would call her about, her (surrogate) brother was DEAD extra crispy, and her mom MIA. Realistically, they would have called her.


	5. Erased

**DISCLAIMER: **I am not making any money from this, this is purely some fiction I need to get out of my head.

* * *

Season 6

* * *

"Excuse me, you did what?"

I was aware of how bitchy my voice sounded, but he deserved every inflection.

Dean's face stared hard back at me, blinked once and took a heavy breath to explain, "Castiel-"

He cleared his throat, having some trouble, "He-uh-erased me from their memories, they won't...they don't remember me."

There was a moment to let it hang overhead, Bobby averted his eyes, Sam's jaw set, and I glared daggers.

If no one else would say it, I sure as hell would.

"You selfish jackass." I said with a serious laugh, shaking my blonde head, "I can't believe you."

"Excuse me?" his tone edged.

"Do you really think that this will fix anything?"

Rhetorical; I slid off the table, boots and body pointed right at him, completely intending confrontation.

"Crowley still knows you care about them, so why don't you try to explain to me why _you_ think that their non-memory will somehow protect them?"

"They'll be safe." he said with firm certainty.

I scoffed loudly.

"What's your problem Jo?"

Then I chuckled sharply, "My problem isn't what this is about, its yours, Dean."

He opened his mouth for an acid retort when I cut him off, ranting.

"Your problem is leaving behind everyone you love that isn't your brother, cause God knows you have risked everything for him before. You really can't keep doing this, you can't just abandon these people!"

"I'm not, I'm protecting them!"

"Again, how exactly are you accomplishing that?" I spat back.

"As long as they are close to me they will continue to be targets." he growled.

"So now they don't have you to safeguard them, and Crowley still knows who they are and that you still care about them-" my lips made a tsking sound, "Yeah, that really spells out safety."

"This was the best thing for them," he sounded through grit teeth, "You of all people should understand how many people in our _family _gets caught in the crossfire."

I glared, but ignored his last biting statement. I had to be careful with this subject, he still had no idea about the deal I made with Crowley, how he had broken it so easily when Dean was starting to rebel.

I had no intention him ever finding out about it.

I was still so angry at the fact I let the demon trick me into keeping me on his dime, for absolutely nothing. I was angry at the fact Dean just erased them so easily, after I gave up my morals and instinct for them unharmed, alive and with _him_.

I swallowed those feelings down, deciding to come at this from a different angle to make him understand.

"They loved you, Dean, do you really think Lisa would have wanted this? You were an important person in their lives, you have to know you meant something to them!"

"Don't think I don't know that, Jo. I am keeping them away from me, because this is exactly what will keep happening to them, just like anyone else who I let in my family. Hell, if I had my way I would never leave them, I never wanted to."

"Well lucky them!" I shouted back acidly, before I could control my blurt.

His lips flicked out over his lips in regression, I knew he realized he had struck a nerve from our past.

Fuck it, it was already out, might as well start it up again. Letting it all flow through the gates, my tone darkly slow and bitter.

"You don't understand what its like Dean, because you are always the one who does the leaving. And they may not remember you, but they will _feel_ your absence, they will _dream_ about you, like I did."

My voice rose, still petulant, "You meant something to them and you meant something me, but you obviously and repeatedly don't care about how the people who love_ you_ may feel."

I noted his fingers folded up into his palms at each word, eyes unblinking and tense.

"You just ditch it and run when you see fit, without consulting anyone because _you_ have some narcissistic sense that _you_ know what's best for _us_, that _you_ know what is safest for_ us_. You never even left any other option but your own!"

"Why does it even matter to you?" Dean snarled back, lips moving violently, "I thought you were over it, remember? You know what I'm thinking? I think you're mad at yourself because you wanted it to be this way, for them to be out of the way for you to move back in. So stop taking your anger at yourself out on me Jo."

Dangerously, I glowered at him as his last statement hung painfully in the air. I felt the sting of it ball up my own fists. He met my black look, ferocity deteriorating as mine intensified.

It happened fast, and without thought.

Swiftly, I closed the distance between us-my fist hit the flesh of his face; he stumbled backward holding his new injury.

I knew he had worse before, but the look in his eyes betrayed more hurt in sentiment than from body.

My eyes fixated on him; rancorous, watching as the splash of blood drip over his fingers. When his green flickered up to brown, I spun around, blonde curls whirling at my back.

Marching right past startled Bobby and Sam, I punched the door open, and left.

* * *

_As her figure left through the door frame, Dean knew he had made a mistake._

_"Jo, wait!" he stepped after her, dropping his hands from his face, letting the blood slide free. _

_"Jo, I-" he shouted as he passed the door, holding it open for his body and stopped at its threshold._

_"Joanna!"_

_He shouted, hoping she would hear-_

_But it was too late, she was already past the last door, and now outside. She kept on marching until she threw herself into her maroon Buick, turning it over and screeching off into the night; tail lights blurring._

_Dean watched her, frustration building inside himself. After a long moment he glanced at Sam and Bobby, almost having forgotten they were there._

_"Boy, she really popped you one." Bobby remarked as the blood fell off his chin. _

_Dean wiped it with his sleeve; face grim._


	6. Uncle Sam Wants You

Season 6

* * *

**Lansing, Michigan**

_Campbell Compound _

If he followed me out, my fist might turn him around again.

He was adamant, of course, and I hear his boots hit the door before it slammed and he had to open it again. He was close behind. Damn the Campbell and Winchester long legs, they took my stride two to one. Then again, I weighted down by my clothes-filled backpack and a heavy-ass weapons bag slung round my right shoulder.

I curb the violent impulse of punching, remembering I am working on my quick resolve to anger.

Instead I kept my stride, the chilled outside wind blowing my hair back with attitude. I grip the strap of my backpack in my right palm, clipping my keys off jean loops smoothly with my left.

Buick was in my immediate sight.

"Don't leave." His voice was gruff, commanding, over the crunching of our boots on chunks of gravel.

I snorted, pushing the key into the lock and twisting open the trunk. Lifting the forest green rectangular bag from around my body, I deposited it into the car with some emotional force.

"Orders from you aren't welcome anymore."

I slammed the hood down.

"He promised me Mary!"

"Don't even TRY to give me that Campbell-Winchester family _bullshit_." I snarled, deadly still and focused on him, "I am beyond sick of it. You men just can't keep lying to people who are _supposed_ to be your "family" to make fucking deals with demons. It sucks that people you care about have died, but you can't keep BRINGING THEM BACK from the DEAD just because you think you're SPECIAL."

His Timberlands crunched closer to me, "Is it me that you're really angry with, Jo?"

Fuck this.

I stared at him, incredulously livid.

I knew he was referring to my recent reconnection with Dean. Because Samuel's pig-headed ideal of women didn't leave the option that I could think and feel things outside of my former relationship. Or whatever the fuck it was.

Still, it wasn't about that, and to have him say that to my face whitened my knuckles. How dare he fucking try to belittle my emotions about his hustling monsters deal with Crowley.

"Yes, _Samuel_. I am very angry with you, _Samuel_. You've lied to me repeatedly, _Samuel_. You're helping the King of Hell get his hands on an unlimited amount of souls in exchange for your dead daughter, _Samuel_."

I heaved in a breath after straining my lungs to get all of it out.

He shifted his weight and crossed his arms, peppered chin jutting out defiantly.

"I mean, did you even stop and think about that one? You want to bring back your dead daughter, who has been dead for years, to what? Watch as Crowley becomes un-huntable from all the powers he's earned by swallowing souls whole?"

I traveled down the length of my maroon Buick as I spoke, "You want her to be there when he comes after her sons and kills them with a snap of his fucking fingers? 'Cause you know Crowley would never let them live after witnessing their fucked up determination for hunting the Big Bads."

I opened the driver door, resting my arms on the hood and ajar door, still facing him coldly, "How much you want to bet; he'll eat _your_ souls after you find Purgatory for him? Maybe that's how he's spun it; you'll have Mary, but you'll both be dead."

He had nothing to follow after my rant. I slammed him with some hard reality, but still his face seemed disillusioned, as if what I was saying could _never_ happen to him.

I moved to sit on the vintage plush seat thinking if every man I ever cared about could just stop being so narcissistic that would be just so wonderful.

"Joanna."

The door shut after my body, and I glared at him from the open window, fingers ready to turn the key over.

He stood there, still, as if his silence were an apology all its own.

Starting afresh with venom in my words, I refused to let his grandfather expression win me over.

"I would have died fighting with you, you know. I thought I was a part of something good here, working with you, feeling like a part off this fucked family. But I won't work for the King of Hell, or trust anyone else who does, no matter how much I care about them."

I decided to leave the wound we were creating stinging, feeling a dark pleasure from his possible guilt.

"We're hunters, _Campbell_. When did you switch sides?"

Before he could speak without background I turned the engine over, flooding his voice of sudden protest.

He had his chance to defend himself, and he couldn't. Now he can eat my fucking smog.

In the rear-view, I look one look back to Samuel watching my car drive with a morbid expression.

* * *

I was on the road for thirty minutes, still seething, when something came into view on the road ahead.

A man dressed in a black suit; crimson silk tie smoldering under headlights.

That dark pleasure returned with an exhale, and I gave the pedal more thrust. Speeding toward him, I relished in pretending that I could actually hit him.

Just before impact, of course, he was gone.

I screeched to a halt, looking in the mirrors to find him standing there, sly smile wide and taunting.

Snarling, I set it for reverse, and stepped on the pedal; hard. The car jolted to a stop with a snap of his fingers, and I whiplashed against the headrest.

Back of my skull aching, I pushed open the door, stiffly and stepped out, legs unstable and stiff.

"You better not have ruined my car."

He only smiled as I walked down the length of the Buick over to him, dragging the Ithaca by my side.

The red headlights cascaded on his person appropriately.

"Where do you think you're going, love?"

"Away."

I stood in front of Buick as if to protect it from him, blinking the pain out of focus while holding the sawn-off for his chest. A salt-round fired from it wouldn't do much to the Demon King, but it would keep him at a distance.

If only I had Sam's knife, I could end it all right now.

"I'm not doing your dirty work anymore, now that I know that it is."

"That just won't do." he remarked, disapprovingly.

"Well you'll have to make it." I gave him a closed-lipped smile with an aggressive tilt of my blonde head.

He shrugged his broad, black, coated shoulders, "I won't."

I scoffed.

I shouldn't have gotten out, or stopped for that matter. Why did I?

Oh, right, because all I want is to wail on something until my anger dissipated. I realized too late I chose the wrong playmate.

I turned away from him, returning to my car-

He appeared in front of me.

Immediately I re-aimed the shot-gun with a huff.

"See," he ignored the weapon, "I need all available Hunters on this; numbers equals progress, progress equals results, you get the big picture."

He looked at me in a way that make me want to vomit.

"And you, my dear, have been racking in those curious kills and captures. You're right up there with Sammy."

"Fuck off," I smiled; faked, as I spat it, "you have nothing to keep me on your payroll."

Crowley snapped a picture of Dean to his fingertips, tone threatening, "Here is your payment then, pet. You keep on bringing in those nasty monsters for me, and I won't kill him."

He wagged the photograph in front of me.

"Yeah, okay," I scoffed agin, "like you would really waste Dean Winchester."

He shrugged nonchalantly, "He is a bit rusty when it comes to the job, he's a prick in my arse anyways, might as well just be rid of the problem."

My smile didn't falter, "No way, you need him, just like you need me, nice try. Next time try opening with something that doesn't void the offer you're trying to make. But-" I lifted my eye-brows and lowered the gun, playing at lust, "I didn't know you were so fond of me, makes a girl feel all kinds of special."

We stared each other down for a moment.

"I bet you are very good at poker."

Ruefully, my lips spread further on my face, "Bet your bottom dollar."

He matched my smile, "Tell you what then, love-"

Stepping forward, I could smell his breath, musky and minted, "Keep working for me, and I won't go after Dean's little happy family."

What? Where the fuck was he taking this?

"Why should I care?" I licked lips, "If you know mine and Dean's history-"

"Oh I do, and I know you still have those little schoolgirl pangs for him." He cut in smartly, "I know that when Sammy boy fell into that flamed pit, Deano promised to live a pathetic little normal life...with you."

"Stalker, much?" I growled, feeling very uncertain with this new direction.

"Winchester drama is the best to tune into. I keep my tabs, love." He stared down at me, smiling through those dark brown eyes, "And in keeping them I learned that when the time came to settle, he chose little miss normal and her son over you."

I was shaking now; murderous and sorrowful from the rush of suppressed emotional memory. He had completely turned this conversation to what I never expected, which I'm sure was just what he wanted.

"Tell me, love-" he took another step, so close that I could smell the smoke from the body he rode, "-did he tell you? Did he even say goodbye?"

Waiting a few moments to push back the memories and contain myself, I glared daggers back up at him. I had to regain control, show his that I didn't actually care, no matter how much I truthfully did.

"This is you bargaining for their lives?"

"No, this is me reminding you how pathetic you are Miss I'msotoughnow. I'm reminding you that I will always have something on you, something to make you do whatever I want."

I opened my mouth for an acidic retort - his snap interrupted.

Abruptly, we were outside of a house, standing on the street adjacent.

Both street and house spread dark goose bumps through my body.

Fuck.

Crowley leaned in from behind me, lips at my ear.

"Have a look-" he extended his arm to point through the living room window.

I saw my distant reflection through a glass window, then focused my eyes beyond it, knowing who he wanted me to see.

There Lisa and Ben sat: watching a movie together with popcorn, cuddled up and cozy on the couch, completely unaware of the supernatural outside under the street lamp.

Inhaling sharply when I whispered into my ear, I stood transfixed. It was as if I had been transported to that day, nearly a year ago, when I found him here.

"You still have that feeling for Dean, and I know you would hate to see the ones he loved ripped away from him, I know that a good girl like you would hate to see innocent people sacrificed."

"Fuck you." I gulped, "I still won't help you."

"Really?" He stepped just beside me, tone unconvinced, "Just think if I just sent my goons in there-"

Another snap and demons were outside the door-

My heartbeat rattled my chest.

"and Dean were to come home to their dead bodies-"

I moved to run, to save them from the attack-but Crowley's telekinesis restricted me from moving any further.

I turned to fire on him.

The shot went off, buzzing in my ears, but he was gone.

"That's not part of the game, love." He sounded from behind me.

I whirled again, but his magic wrenched the gun out of my hands just as the demons in the distance behind him pulled open the house door.

"There's only one way to save them."

"FINE!"

"What was that love?" he said smugly.

His grip loosened and I stepped close to him suddenly, stiff and livid.

"It's a deal. I will keep hunting for you if you do not harm Lisa and Ben in any way."

Looking deep into my eyes as if to find out how much I meant it, he waited for a moment. Begrudged, but desperate I held his gaze; he had to see that I was telling the truth.

Why the fuck was I doing this?

He snapped for a third time.

The demons had disappeared, just as Lisa, a gun (one of Dean's) unnaturally in her hand, cautiously went to the door to see no one there.

"Well isn't this wonderful." He grinned.

I glowered, feeling homicidal, beaten and hypocritical.

Samuel was going to give me a mouthful when I showed up back in my bunk.

"And all deals, my sweet come with a kiss."

From under my lashes I seethed up to his eyes, at first refusing to move.

"It won't be sealed without one, Joa-."

I grasped the back of his head and pulled my lips to his before he could finish me name, eyes shut tightly.

Jerking away after a few seconds, I placed distance between us, disgusted.

Vaguely, I realized we were back on the road, Buick right beside me again.

He smiled wide, and licked his lips.

"I must say, business with you is the best I've had in some time."

Unresponsive and nauseous, I turned on my heel to get in Buick for comfort.

"Thank you for that, love!"

I flipped him off as I opened the door, threw myself in, and started the engine with a rumble.

I could still hear him laughing as I tore into a vicious turn, tires now rolling back from where I came.

* * *

**Note: **If you've read my other story _Looking Glass_, you might recognize this from Chapter 4. I decided to go back and flesh it out, from Jo's direct point of view instead of from an observer like how I've constructed that story. This collective is kinda turning out like a prequel haha. I've changed a few details, and made it better I think.


	7. 50 Percent More Chicken

**Note:** I am really loving writing Jo in this time period with Soulless Sam. It's so raw and gruesome, and Jo is just so badass and sassy! I'll be switching to a different, younger Jo soon, but I just couldn't stop my fingers from this one!

* * *

In between S.5 and S.6

* * *

I sprinted.

My field boots thumped rapidly on the white-streaked pavement passing under them.

Why the fuck did I leave my machete?

If one of them caught up too close, it was reassuring to know I had the buffalo horn-handle Damascus Bowie knife strapped to my thigh. Cutting through their necks with it, though, would be slower work than the longer sword I wanted in hand facing them.

Messier too; I just washed the blood and monster chunks from these clothes.

The five vamps behind me would not allow that kind of beheading time from an eight inch blade.

So I stuck to the flight response.

I cursed past-me for challenging myself to this.

They were close, I didn't need to turn my head to check on their distance. My ears let me know exactly how on my ass they were.

Just keep running, just get there, just get them there.

I can see the door, just on the side of the building -

"Shiiit."

Seeing four more vamps forming a tight advancing line right where I was running, I skid quickly to the side and took a panicked route, all the way around the fucking building.

Back-door would have to do.

Cool.

I hope Sam is ready.

The ratio just dropped to an unpredicted and unsafe scale. We were expecting the five, but these three would be sure to throw us a bigger challenge than we intended for ourselves.

Sam will be thrilled.

As I ran around, it was hard to deny the excitement getting to me for the fight ahead too.

Reaching the door, I swung it open.

Sam had clocked my every movement, apparently, and was already at the door when I opened it.

I saw the flash of metal; I ducked and rolled.

Sam sprung the trap with a thrum, and a sharp wire pulled taut. It clothes-lined two oncoming and unsuspecting vamps, cutting clean through their necks.

I heard the blood gush and the heads fall to the ground behind me.

Seven left.

Somersaulting to my feet, and grabbed my machete from where I left it earlier; leaned against the pool table.

I was the blonde bait that lead the monsters into a trap-set bar. Why our work commonly lead us to dusty, old abandoned bars, I would never understand the supernatural appeal.

Eyes snapping to the hanging rope line by the other side of the door; I needed to get to it. Spring the next trap.

My ears picked up on two more entering behind, ducking under the sharp wire, and on to us.

I ran, feet feeling as if they weren't my own, and lunged my hand out for the thick rope - but a she-vamp with luxurious black hair stepped in my way.

She ran at me, ferociously, snarling and I avoided her quickly, jumping on the pool table. I gripped both hands around the hilt and brought it down like a bat to the back of her neck.

It cut clean through bone, the head rolling to the floor, spraying blood in circles with it.

Six.

I leapt off, forgetting the rope that would send deadman's blood raining down on them and re-focused to helping an overwhelmed Sam.

I sent a powerful kick to the next vamp filling into the abandoned bar. He stumbled to the door, but was quickly replaced by another who slammed my head with a fist.

My sight whipped to my partner's corner; Sam had beheaded his opponent, and was on to dodging three at once.

Five more.

I raised the machete - he grabbed my wrist; hard.

I grunted in pain, he ripped the long blade from me, it clattered to the floor over by the second pool table.

Fuck me.

I ducked as he swung at me again, stepping carefully backward between the two pool tables, the vamp I kicked to the door was back, clocking me. The two closed in the isle as I stepped back, light swinging to and fro overhead.

Twice the fun.

My eyes flickered as the light did, drawing my Damascus blade and watching my two new friends come toward me.

Thick red liquid splashed heavily to the floor, and a vamp screamed in agony, drenched in deadman's blood while the other, I could see behind my friends, had dived out-of-the-way.

Sam had sprung the second trap.

Four more that posed a real threat.

I heard two more footsteps shuffle across the dirty floor, from the other door behind me, but my focus was too zoomed on these two.

I lunged and slashed to the one on the right first; he had darker brown hair. He moved away, quicker than I, and his partner grabbed me and flung me over the table, my back stretching uncomfortably on it.

Lighter brunette hair had his hands on my throat.

I slashed at his wrist with my blade, and he withdrew with a hiss.

Darkhair rejoined, and I sent a kick with both legs to his stomach. He fell back into the second table, back crunching loudly, and Lighthair was on me again, holding down my arms this time to the rough green surface of the table.

Damn it.

I struggled, but his supernatural strength won over my human one.

Without a snide remark his fangs were out, and were coming closer to my skin.

Before I knew it Lighthair's blood sprinkled over my face, I quickly squeezed all orifices tight to avoid the thick liquid's entry. His grip loosed and his head banged to the table beside mine.

Yum.

Using his falling body I kicked for momentum and rolled backward over myself, knees meeting the other side of the table to look at my savior - who was surprisingly not Sam.

He was blonde, light stubble across his chin and upper lip. His eyes gray.

Receiving my thankful yet questioning look, he nodded, dripping blade of his own gripped in a fighting stance. He turned and began his fight with the weakened and wet she-vamp not far off.

In a quick glance around the room, there were four more that needed to lose their heads; one she-vamp fending off Blondeguy, Sam's big vamp, another inhuman woman circling an older man with a machete, and Darkhair included.

How did we get evenly matched?

I didn't matter; Darkhair was still clocking me.

I spotted my fallen machete just behind the pool table Darkhair leaned against.

I jumped to the other table, brandishing my blade across his face on my way. He roared when the sharpness left a large gash on his cheek.

When I landed, his hand was on my ankle; he pulled.

I fell, my stomach heaved when it fell on the side and my body hung over the table, my knife clattering to the wooden floor. I grunted, hurting. In a fast movement, he dragged me up over it, the edge of the table rolling up my body painfully.

I twisted in his hands, my own grasping at hard porcelain balls that roamed free in the green indent.

I lurched my torso up, and brought the ball to his temple. It cracked.

He snarled in agony.

I contracted my abs and rolled backward, then jumped my boy up just enough to get my feet underneath. During the movement, I managed to free myself from him and grabbed the pool stick lying there.

Now on my feet, very tall again, I acted quickly.

I swung it, and broke the stick over his head. The other broken part flung away, leaving me with a pointy, jagged end.

I jumped down, facing Darkhair, and he turned to me, furious, rows of fangs out to bite, and I hardly thought about my next attack.

I thrust the wooden pool cue, aiming for his throat, but the vamp advanced too quickly and it ground brutally into his chest.

I've watched too much Buffy.

Blood spurted from the wound, but the vamp only looked down at it and laughed.

I reached to the side and gripped another ball.

"Seriously?" was all he said.

Acting quickly again, I punched Darkhair with the ball in hand, and his face snapped to the side in reaction while I rolled over the table, back temporarily on the green then feet hitting the other wooded side.

I drew my Damascus knife from the floor and whipped up to see he, as I predicted, had followed me around.

He punched me, still laughing, I stumbled back, and when he reared back to attack again, I pushed my blade right through his middle-neck. His laugh choked, vocal chords drowned. From there I sawed to the side, his head still hanging on a strap of nerve.

Spinal cord sliced; my work was done.

One left.

Spotting the older man grappling still with the woman vamp, I moved to him, grabbing my machete on the way.

He must've heard me coming - in a flash of steel he whipped around, aimed for my throat.

"Woah!"

I ducked just in time, rolling under his attack and crashing into the woman, who pushed me quickly away with a snarl.

He beheaded her while her attention distracted by me, and turned on me quickly.

No more.

I rose my long blade to meet his and they clanged together loudly.

"Not a vamp, Grandpa!" I shouted at him, angry and breathing heaving from his murder attempt.

His bald head tilted to look me over, brown eyes catching on my steel before looking at my face again.

"You sure look like it."

I scoffed, "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Hey." Sam's voice rang out authoritatively, "She's with me."

Blondeguy laughed.

The older man turned eyes on Sam, a curious expression on his face.

The bald man's arm slacked on the weaponry, "Sorry. Can't be too careful."

His eyes returned to mine, "You looked the part."

Why did people keep saying that to me?

Irritated he had to confirm through Sam, I scoffed again, "Again, what is that supposed to mean?"

"You're young and attractive, vamps have those features to lure in prey."

Ew.

Did he just hit on my after trying to behead me?

"Good to see other Hunters on the job." The bald man in his fifties had his eyes on Sam's, now stepping away from me.

"This your work?" he gestured to the wire and overturned bucket of blood, eyes flicking to my partner's, "Impressive."

He walked around to inspect our traps, as if measuring if they met up to his standard.

His eyes found Darkhair's nearly beheaded body; broken pool cue shoved through the heart. He chuckled.

"This your work?" His eyes glowed sarcastically to mine.

Blondeguy stepped beside his partner and laughed, "Nice kill, _Slayer._"

"Yeah? Let's see you improvise without any real weapon, buddy." I snapped back.

I seethed, irritated by them giving all the credit to Sam and discounting me, and my favorite tv-show heroine.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to ask," the smile I forced on my face sassy,"You two are...?"

Blondeguy shrugged and smiled back, the Bald man's eyes shifted to meet mine, a flash in them I didn't understand.

"I'm Samuel Campbell, and that's Mark. We're running an operation to combat all this monster activity lately. You two seem like you know what you're doing. If we got to know you better, I'd like to have you on the team, we could use the help."

Campbell…it sounded familiar.

Chicken noodle soup maybe?

"No thanks, we got out own thing going here." I rejected his offer; quick and distasteful.

Sam grunted in indifferent recognition at the name, "I'm Sam Winchester, and that's Joanna Harvelle."

I turned my eyes to Sam, hoping he got my I-don't-like-them memo.

Samuel (older) blinked and straightened in surprise, "Winchester?"

Sam nodded, tone flat, "You're my grandfather."

Oh, damn it.

That changed things.


	8. Trial and Error Vignette

**Note: **So, I guess I haven't let go of my story from _A Hunter's Playlist _yet, because I found myself typing out this little one-shot of Jo reuniting with the Kevin and the Winchesters a few months after the events from the last chapter. I was thinking to post it as a vignette for it, but decided the style was more fitting to post in the Collective. I hope you enjoy it!

**Disclaimer: **This includes some dialogue from 8.14 from Supernatural. I do not own it, I am just altering it a bit to fit in Jo.

* * *

Season 8

* * *

**Garth's Boat**

My boots made some noise clinking on the rusty little ship, still acclimating to the sway of the boat.

"Guess who Kev?"

There was no answer.

"Are you asleep?"

Still no answer as I descended the steps, the walls thinning the space around me.

"Don't pull the paranoid Ninja on me, it's Jo, I'll prove it."

I reached the bottom on of the steps and the dank smell hit my nostrils. I reacted negatively, letting an, "ugh" sound pass subconsciously through my throat.

Gross. Did he ever clean this place?

"Hey, are you planning on answering me ev-?"

When I rounded the corner I dropped all foodstuff and coffee in hands.

Kevin was on the floor, nostrils bleeding over his lip and into his open mouth.

I dropped down to him, shaking him gently.

"KEVIN! KEVIN, WAKE UP!"

He still didn't wake.

I pressed my fingers to his pulse; it wasn't pumping.

His chest wasn't rising or falling either.

Magic was out of the question; that was some black material. I wasn't opening that door.

Naturally then.

I tilted his head to create space behind his neck and the floor; opening the airway. Left hand on the forehead to keep the adjustment, I used my thumb and forefinger to pinch his nose, blood squeezing to stain my fingertips. My right hand lifted his underside chin.

My mouth closed around his.

One breath.

Two breath.

Still no pulse.

I found his Zyphoid Process, two fingers above it, I placed the heels of my palms and interlocked my hands on top of each other. Arms locked and shoulder directly over, I compressed down on his sternum, fifteen times.

Tilt his neck.

Lift his jaw.

Plug his nose.

Mouth to mouth.

Two breaths.

Fifteen compressions.

Tears where starting to flow the second time around, but I saved my breath to give to him.

Neck tilt, jaw lift, mouth covered, two breaths, ten compressions in-

Kevin's muscles began to twitch, his face contorting.

I stopped, fingers jabbing to his neck.

Stronger pulse.

I rolled him to his side immediately, tears now changed to ones of elation.

Kevin groaned and vomited, spewing out sideways from his body.

I was laughing and crying while the vomit began to stink the place even more.

Once he was finished, he tried to roll to his back again.

"No, No. You've got to stay like this, just in case alright?"

"Jo?" his voice strained.

"That's me."

"Are you alright?"

I chuckled loudly, nerves still active, "Are you?"

"What happened?"

"You fucking scared me to death."

"What happened?"

"You died."

"What?"

I sniffed up the tears, smiling, "Welcome to the Resurrection Crew."

"How?"

"CPR. So far you take to title for natural reviving."

"Did you do that?"

"Kill you? No."

"No, CPR."

"Who the hell else? What have you done to yourself?" I exclaimed to him as firmly as I could with a shaking voice.

"I don't even know."

"Fucking stop it. I'd hate to make jolting you back to life my new hobby."

"Thank you."

I took a deep breath to calm the nerves still pumping through my body, "No problem."

He rolled on his back, I didn't stop him this time, he seemed to recover alright.

"I think you've made the place smell better, if possible."

He gave a small grin on his clammy face to my making light.

I stared at him for a bit, trying to keep the tears from re-welling and falling on him.

"Jo..."

I cut his words before he formed them, "Don't. Do that. Again."

I swallowed as much of the emotional reaction I could down, an audible gulp sounding between us.

"I won't."

I nodded my head, finding words unable to come to me.

Kevin's hand was reaching into his pocket, weakly fumbling out his phone.

He snapped it open, and pressed a key, dialing someone from speed dial, then holds it up to his ear.

"What are you doing?" I asked incredulously.

Kevin didn't answer instead, he answered the other line, "Dean? Come quick."

He ended the call.

"What was that about?"

"I found something."

"And you had to call him right here and now? After what just happened? What the fuck Kev?"

"It's important." he wheezed, "Can you heal me?"

I scoffed, "No."

"Why not?"

"I'm not letting you breeze this death by without consequence, Kevin. You're going to feel every last painful bit of this. Learn from your stupid mistakes and take better care of yourself."

"Jo-"

"No. I'm not practicing magic to cure you, you need to go through this, you idiot."

* * *

Of course the Winchesters walked in packing heat and in formation. Dean was lead, as always.

"Kevin? It's us." Sam's voice called out.

"Over here." I answered, not wanting to get shot before they realized I was here.

"Jo?" That was Dean.

"Yep."

They entered what I deemed the post-it room, their guns lowering.

Dean and I met eyes. It had been a long while since I'd seen him, ever since Cas came back and Kevin's rescue from Crowley. Months.

Though our texting conversations were also scattered throughout that time, it was still strange to see him in the flesh. It gave me heart a sort of plunging yet flying feeling. It was uncomfortable and thrilling to say the least.

"Where is he?"

Kevin's audible retching was heard from the bathroom.

"Puking. He's had a rough morning."

"Hammered?"

"No, he was dead."

"What?!" Sam snapped.

"Yeah, luckily I remember my ABC's."

They looked at me questioningly.

"Of CPR?"

"What happened?"

"He's pushing himself too hard."

"It's worth it though." Kevin's nasal-ed voice rang over the port door hitting the rusty wall on his exit.

I scoffed, "Worth it to skip out on sleep, live off hotdogs and OD-ing on pain pills?"

"Kevin what the hell?" Dean's voice was stern.

"I think it was just a small stroke." He wrote off my comment, "But it _was_ worth it."

"What was worth it?"

Sam interrupted before I could explode over the 'small stroke' factor.

Kevin rose up from his leaning on the desk with a smile on his face, "I figured out how to close the gates of Hell."

* * *

"I'm going with you guys. You're going after a Hell Hound, Dean. Remember what happens when we face these things?"

Celebration and explanation time was done, Kevin showered and shaved.

I drew Dean aside to chew him out about bringing more pills to Kevin to keep him translating, and Sam kept the prophet talking in the main compartment. I wouldn't take the 'play through the pain' excuse.

In private on the bow, though, we started to talk about the new job on the line, which I was determined to join.

"Exactly why I want you to stay here."

"No way."

"Look Jo, this isn't going to be some revenge kick for you alright?"

I felt my eyebrows crease to narrow my eyes, in angry protest, "You were ripped to pieces too Dean, it's not about revenge for either of us."

"That's not what I'm seeing."

"How would you know? We haven't seen each other in a while."

"Yeah, and who's idea was that?"

I took in a breath, realizing it was my fault for that statement to come harmfully to his lips.

"Look, I'm just saying you guys are going to need my help. These Hounds are tough."

"Well I've survived one before."

"Lucky you." I said under my breath.

He still heard it, and it was now his turn to tilt his head down in silence and take in a breath.

We really don't know how to speak to each other without bringing up hurtful past subjects, apparently.

"Dean, you and Sam are already fighting over who is going to do the trials, wouldn't it be easier for me to give it a go?"

"Absolutely not."

"Way to put some thought into it." I retorted.

"I don't want-"

"What, me getting hurt? Tune in here, Dean, it's kind of our job. What, you think I can't do it?"

"No."

My expression stretched, eyes wide in potential anger, "No?"

"I mean yes, I know you could." He backtracked.

"Then let me-"

"I don't want to put you in danger."

"Dean I think we've established-"

"I just can't see that, okay?"

That silenced my next snap, in Dean-speak that was actually kind of touching.

"Well vice versa."

He looked at me, a small smile twitched to his face, "It's a little too late for me."

"Anything you say, I can reply the same, Dean. Let me help you. I'm more than capable."

"I know. I just-"

"I know." I saved him the trouble of having to admit it, "But you got to get past that if we're going to hunt together."

"Who says we will?" His eye twinkled.

I smiled, and cast my eyes down, "Well, I've thought and...I've really missed you, Dean."

Looking back up, I saw his eyes already on me.

"Me too."

I grinned, and stepped toward him, arms outstretched.

We hugged, and I felt his lips on my brow.

"You and Sam seem good."

"Yeah we've got some stuff out of the way. How've you been?"

"I've had time to deal, and besides this morning, I'm great."

"Still practicing?"

I smirked, knowing his dislike of the craft, "Yes."

"Not going black eyes anytime soon, right?"

Why did everyone ask that? Did I seem the type to use the darkside of the force?

I chuckled, "That storyline is tired, I'm much more exciting than that. In a good way."

We shared a smile, and I bit my lip in nervousness.

"Dean, I know I don't really have the right to say this...but I've been thinking about us...and I know a lot has happened since we last talked but I'm ready-"

"Hey."

I turned slowly and glared daggers at the intruder.

Sam.

He is just never going to redeem himself in my book, is he?

My mind itched to contract the energy around the door and slam it in the younger Winchester's face.

"Let's hit the road. Are you coming with us Jo?"

I waited for a moment before responding, giving Sam my bitchiest smile , "Yeah."

"Cool. Let's pack up."

Sam turned and left us, Dean swung his head back to me, "We should get gong. We'll talk after the job?"

"Let the winner be bathed in blood." I nodded.

He offered a smirk, and gave me a half-hug on the way out the door.

I lingered behind, taking a breath before stepping out to say my good-byes and brief lecture to Kevin.

* * *

**Shoshone, Idaho**

Research led us to who Dean referenced as the 'Beverly Hillbillies'. Unfortunately, the Cassity family weren't so friendly, and the 'work' we had to do as cover was shit- literally.

Once Carl was picked off by a pup, we almost though we lost or chance, until more deals just kept springing up all over the family. We played service crew and I revisited my bar tending days for the rich drunks. All liquor-ed up, they tripled the stakes when they divulged in front of Sam that Crowley was the collector for all these deals.

Kevin found us a cure to the doggie invisibility deal, and Dean and I were off to the Impala to ready ourselves while Sam kept the richies company.

Dean was busy cursing the glasses, while I retrieved my best weapons.

I heard footsteps approaching and rounding the car, while I was in the back seat of it. I peeked out the back window to find Ellie head straight for Dean. I doubt she knew I was here. A sudden urge had me duck from sight to wait and listen.

It wasn't eavesdropping if Dean knew I was there right?

"I like it...the whole Clark Kent look."

"Ellie, hey."

I knew she had the hots for him.

Why am I being so creepy?

"Hey. So...I think you're really hot. You want to go to my room and have sex?"

I nearly choked on my saliva.

"What?" At least his voice sounded just as surprised.

"I - sorry. I don't usually do this. I guess I'm feeling my oats."

I could feel the irrational anger toward the woman building up inside me.

"I can't."

I smiled in smug satisfaction.

Ha, take that.

"What?"

She stepped back.

"Okay. Uhh, embarrassing."

"Oh, no, no, no. No, I want to." he chuckled, "Believe me."

My jaw set and ground my teeth in a horrible way, the heat returning to my gut.

He was saying that because he knew I was here.

Fucker.

"No, it's okay - you don't. I guess I'm gonna..."

"Ellie, um... Rain check"

Or had he forgotten I was here?

Maybe. The subject of sex comes up and he's a fucking slave to it, as usual.

_"He'll fuck all those whores out there, but not you." _Meg's words through Sam's voice suddenly sprung to memory.

I felt nauseous remembering.

"This is one night only. Sorry."

I scoffed to myself.

Her footsteps retreated, and I stepped out from the Impala's backseat, slamming the door after my exit. It was more force than necessary, sure, but I didn't really care.

Dean jumped from watching Ellie leaving, eyes finding mine, a terrible realization on his face.

So he did forget in the heat of Ellie's moment.

"Jo."

His eyes flicked to the machete I held in hand.

"Dean."

I marched up, "These the glasses?"

I spoke in a quick pace, avoiding his eyes.

"Yeah..."

I snatched a folded pair from hanging on his shirt and turned to leave, machete hoisted and rested on my shoulder, sliding the chunky glasses on my face.

"Jo, I wasn't actually going to-"

I turned, walking backward as I answered him spitefully.

"Do what you want, Dean, you're not tied down, remember?"

Turning again to face the night, I walked off, adjusting the glasses, my grip white on the handle, hyper-focused on finding the Hell Hound that was somewhere out there.

"Where are you going?"

"_You're_ going to prep Sam and the Farmhouse Reality Show in there about the Hounds, I'm going to go kill one and take a bath."

His footsteps were crunching behind to follow.

"Don't you dare." I shouted back, and I heard him growl his frustration before stomping away to the house.

I directed my sudden flood of jealously and anger to the hunt. That puppy was going to be ripped to fucking pieces.

Finding a Hell-bitch, I tracked it, machete in both hands.

Surprisingly, I followed it around the house, and all the way to the barn.

Confused, I went over the facts in my head. Everyone in the house was compiled of everyone who could have made a deal - Ellie's quarters were in the barn.

Fuck.

I stalked it some more, hoping to come at it from behind while it tried to open the barn doors.

Too bad Dean cam strolling out, opening the doors and fucking up my plan. The son of a bitch even started to yell at it.

Classic Winchester.

While he was looking one way, the hound ran at his opposite side.

I ran to meet the in-between, slashing the blade down to cut off the head.

I was too slow and Dean shouted in pain and was thrown back, Ruby's knife in the dirt.

My attack followed through, but only sliced a bit of flesh from the dog.

It yelped and jumped back, snarling and circling me.

I raised my machete for action.

With a snarled roar it jumped at me again, I dodged and swung.

It was too fast and my swing too slow for decapitation - but blood sprayed as the blade came down on its tail.

Yowling, it turned and batted me harshly with a large paw.

Unable to react in time I felt the slash of its claws on my leg and was thrown backward, dirt flying. Though my glasses were lost, I could feel the heat of its breath coming closer, and it's paw prints shift the ground.

"HEY!" Dean screamed, crawling into view on the opposite end.

The hound whipped around in a flurry of soil, making its way back over to Dean.

My bawl of protest went unheard, as my teeth were nearly cutting into my bottom lip from the pain gushing from my leg.

Was this what my mother felt al over her body?

The thought was more than I could bear.

A shot-gun firing stole the noise from my ears, leaving a buzz in their wake. Twice Sam fired, and the hound howled each time.

I pulled my Beretta from the holster at my side, and took aim for where I believed the dog to be.

I fired.

It hit with a splash of blood to the air and a squeal.

Distracting it just long enough for Sam to roll, catching Ruby's knife from the floor.

The paws kicked up dirt, aiming for the body closest to it; Sam.

He caught the dog's throat in his other hand. It barked to rip Sam's face off, but he plunged the blade up, and drew it through the body. Blood poured down on him, black and thick.

It was done.

I concentrated again on the agony of my shredded leg, dropping and forgetting my gun.

Groaning from injuries and breathing heavily, the three of us laid there for Ellie to find us.

She patched us up, and I was laid in the backseat of the Impala while Sam and Dean undoubtably discussed and argued about their next move.

Whatever.

I focused my energy to healing. Luckily there was a full moon (no need for herbs and oils), and after digging through my supply bag I found the chunk of Rhodonite wrapped in silver wire for big wound emergencies. Gingerly placing the stone on the clawed area on my thigh, I flowed my energy through it and the stone radiated to my skin.

I grit my teeth and shouted, but the wounds were closing up, I needed to play through the pain of the advanced magical healing process.

Once it was done, I rested, waiting for the Winchesters for the long drive back to Garth's boat.


	9. Burn Out the Night

Season 2

* * *

"Jo?"

I lifted my head, eyes feeling drooped and swollen.

It had been hours since we left Dean.

The books loomed open in front of me, but there was nothing to see. The string of words lining the pages didn't have any meaning.

Bobby was checking up on me.

It wasn't difficult to figure out I wasn't being much help with figuring out what big plot plan Ash stumbled on, but I didn't care.

Bobby did though.

I guess I would too if I could feel anything.

I didn't speak, I just met his eyes.

They gleamed differently at me than how I remembered they used to. Back when he would play pretend with me. When my Mom and Dad would give me to Bobby for a couple of nights to go out on a Hunt together, or when Dad came home and they needed time alone.

Mom.

Still no word from her.

Mom and Dad and Ash were gone, and I was dropped off at Bobby's once again.

Now his eyes stared at me with empathy instead of joy; I had never seen them look at me like that.

I was sickened by it.

"Any matching prophecy?"

I shook my head and blinked.

He nodded.

"You should get some sleep, Joanna."

I didn't feel like it, but I didn't have the words to say it.

After my breakdown in his car I slipped right back into sleeplessness. The depression closed in, and there was effort to do anything; too much effort. I was tired, but would not sleep.

He sighed but didn't talk to me again, instead squeezing his palm over my shoulder.

I closed my eyes to experience the singular focus of his comforting touch.

The door knocked to interrupt.

Bobby's hand lifted off, my eyes remained closed, holding onto the feeling.

I heard the door open.

A pause.

"Hey, Bobby."

Dean.

"Hey, Bobby."

I was fixed in a freezing moment, eyes prying open.

"Sam. It's good to see you...up and around."

I wasn't paying attention to deciphering the words speaking anymore, though their footsteps shuffling on the wood house was clear.

Sam stepped in, first his head directed to look at Bobby's desk. It turned and he spotted me.

His eyes flooded with empathy, his face rimpled.

"Jo...hey."

I remained seated on the couch, eyes staring as far up as they would to fit his figure into my view.

He had been dead a few hours ago.

More footsteps followed, and I lowered my gaze to see Dean following his brother into the room, looking around. He met mine, and immediately downcast his eyes.

"How are you?" the body prodded me.

I continued to stare at Dean, and got to my feet. They felt disconnected; as if they weren't even mine.

Walking directly passed the dead man, I lunged at Dean, my face snapping close to his. Our eyes locked; his were hard.

"Why did you let me go?" I said low and slow, teeth starting to grit.

When he averted his eyes and spoke my name, I shoved him.

"WHY? WHY WEREN'T YOU HELD BACK, HUH? I COULD HAVE-"

My hand came across his face sharply, and Dean's jaw flexed. His eyes opened and flicked to me, head remaining tilted, leaving the red-printed cheek open.

"Why are you so special?"

I reared again, this time with a closed fist, and the sobbing had started through the shouts.

Bobby intervened before I hit him a second time. His arms closed around my mid-elbow and pushed me into the kitchen. I struggled, but not too roughly, I was too weak to fend anything off.

All the while, he repeated my name, as if to calm me. It had the opposite effect, I felt sickened and pressured.

"STOP! Just stop."

I broke free from Bobby once in the kitchen, turning my back to the men and rubbing the heel of my palms against my forehead.

"Jo-"

"Leave me alone." I spoke through teeth.

The library behind me was dense with quiet, it was too thick and I couldn't breathe from it. I turned out of the kitchen and stomped to the front door.

It slammed at my back.

How could he do something like that, there were going to be major consequences from it I was sure. And while I was loathing Dean for his selfish sacrifice, I loved what he did for Sam and was brutally envious of it. Why did Dean's brother get to live? Why wasn't I allowed to work the supernatural and get mine back, to get my mother back?

It wasn't fair.

On the porch, I paused, looking out to the road.

I bet a crossroad wasn't too far from here.

Something rooted my feet to the porch, as if I were a demon trapped. The tears were rolling again while I just stared at the road. Why couldn't I do it? Dean could, obviously, he did. So why couldn't I?

Mom wouldn't have wanted it.

Ash wouldn't have wanted me there either.

Sam, probably would have wanted to stay dead too, if he had a choice.

Tearing my eyes way from the road leading to my soul in eternal Hell, I stepped into a familiar area. I threw myself at the swing to my left. My body awkwardly sitting on the long wooden hanging chair, laying across it as I would have when I was shorter.

Bobby used to swing me on it. He draped a sheet over it and we would pretend I was in a rocket to explore deep space. I imagined this time, that I was floating in it, and as the wooden swing gently rocked me, I was melting deeper and deeper into the stars.

My eyes squeezed shut and I was lost to the void.

* * *

"Joanna Beth."

I was dreaming.

"Baby."

I blinked my eyes open.

The sky was darker, dusk shadowed the road I had looked down before.

My neck was stiff from the wood, and my body ached from non-movement, but I managed to turn to the hands that had shaken me awake.

"Mom?"

She smiled, "Yeah, honey."

I swallowed, unsure of how real it all was.

Had I wished it so hard it came true?

"What-"

"I wasn't there when the Demons hit the Roadhouse. I wasn't able to..." She trailed off, tears in her eyes.

Immediately I registered that this was reality.

I lunged my arms forward, dragging my feet off the swing to hug her tight.

Her hands fell on my hair and back, slow strokes to calm my sudden weeping.

"I'm here, baby, I'm here."

"We thought-"

"I know. But I'm not, and I'm here now."

I cried in her jacket, tightening my grip on the jean fabric until my knuckles went white.

"Momma...Mom - Ash -"

A tear let loose over her own cheek at his name.

"He left us some stuff." She managed to say clearly.

I could not form such defined words.

"Joanna, look honey."

I ripped myself away from her to see what she held in her hand; a set of brass knuckles lay in her hand. The side was engraved: _Ash_.

Taking them from her, I smiled at the memory, "These are the ones that got him kicked out of ITT."

"Damn fool." Mom whispered.

We both chuckled.

"Where -"

"He left a safe. Kept some stuff valued to him in it. I imagine he'd want us to have it."

I nodded, sniffling up the tears, "I'm so glad you're alive Momma."

"Me too, baby, me too."

My hand-held the weapon in my hands, feeling the weight of it, "What are we gonna do now?"

"What do you want to do now?" She tucked a hair behind my ear, "We can leave, go start a new life with Ash and everyone in our hearts or -"

"We should fight." I finished, feeling my resolution.

Finally, I had a direction.

"It's the right thing." I added, looking into her eyes.

Mom nodded, resting her palm on my cheek, "That's my girl."

"Did the boys come up with anything?" I wiped some tears away.

I might not have been any help before, but I was set to rectify that now.

"As - in the safe there was a map. We figured out that Samuel Colt built a big Demon Trap from railroads and churches, we got the notion Yellow Eyes is trying to let something out of it."

"What?"

"We don't know yet."

"Why didn't you wake me -"

"Bobby said you haven't been sleeping. You needed your rest baby girl."

"You knew I would fight?"

She smiled sadly, "I hoped you wouldn't but...you are your father's daughter."

* * *

Next thing I knew we were suited up for a fight.

I think it was the first time Momma ever let me carry a gun in front of her. It felt strange, as if I ought to be hiding it from her as I usually did. But I needed it brandished, especially in the Cowboy graveyard we were in.

Browning Hi Power Pistol in hand and a Taurus PT92 at my side wasn't enough to protect me from the asshat demon puppet James.

"Hey Sweetie. Do me a favor. Put that gun to your head."

I did, feeling that grounding sensation that I might experience a death beyond my control. It terrified me, and fueled such an anger inside.

I was turned into exactly what I didn't want to be; the damsel in distress.

My mother freaked.

I begged for them to shoot him, what was my death compared to the thousands that might be killed when whatever was inside of that crypt was unleashed?

Mom was the first one to throw her gun down.

I hoped the others would see some sense, but they all backed down too. I hated it, being the poor little vulnerable girl who was held hostage in exchange for the fucking coming apocalypse.

James was going to make me pull the trigger anyway, I could feel my finger itching.

Once he turned his back to open the gate, Bobby and Mom lunged at me to wrestle the gun out of my hand. The bullet shot off into the night, away from harming anyone, and Sam and Dean took their aim at James' back.

Though he smacked to the ground dead, it was too late.

The gate was opened.

The Gates of Hell, apparently.

Fuck.

Mom Bobby and I rushed to close it, while the Winchesters got all caught up in their saving each other dependencies. I didn't pay much attention to their end of the fight, I was too busy exerting all strength I possessed against that damned door.

We closed it, but again, it was already too late.

Demon Army was unleashed to the world, and the five of us had survived.

What was next?

War was the answer.

We would be the ones on the vanguard, accepting the responsibility for each demon that had flown out with black smoke rising and racing through the night sky.

Splitting off was established as a necessity without it really being need spoken. The more Hunts we could execute the faster it would be to drag all those demons back to where they had come, and that was an easy thing to deal with after what we had seen and been through together on this damned mission.

Dean had a year to rectify it, as we learned he traded his soul for his brother's life.

Idiot.

I hated him for his decision, but all the same I loved him for it; I wished I would have that courage, that love for your family member. I did, but no one would dare let me make that decision for myself. I was too young in their eyes, the baby hunter.

Well fuck that.

I would search just as hard at an answer for Dean as I would to learn hunting Demons.

The brothers drove off into the black night, the color melting into the deep one of the car.

Mom and I found ourselves back at Bobby's, after the Brother's departure. He had said he had a surprise for us.

From what I read my Mom knew about it too. So really it was just a surprise for me.

It was unspoken that Mom and I would hunt together now, it was just something that seemed to naturally merge together. I knew there was no way she was going to let me on jobs alone now that I was exposed to the baddest of the bigs we've faced so far. I had a taste for it now, and needed to learn quick to be at the head of this fight against the army loose out there.

When Bobby led us out back to his junk lot, I knew it had to be a vehicle. It made sense, my stolen Honda was far from here at the still burning Roadhouse, and it was hardly a car they would want me to be in undoubtably. It wasn't classic enough, not in the style of a hunter.

"It took me some time to fix up Ellen, but I've had it sitting here for a while now, fresh paint and all."

My mother smiled at him, a deeper kind of one that seemed as if the two shared something I was missing.

"Thank you, Bobby, I can't tell you how much it means to me."

"Happy to do it."

I remained silent to let them have their moment.

Then Bobby stopped at a garage, and lifted open the door of it, folding up to the ceiling to show it.

A beautiful deep maroon 1969 Buick Special Deluxe was parked there, shined up and staring right at Mom and I.

"What do ya think?" Bobby's voice came from the side of the car.

"Bobby...It's beautiful." my Mom seemed to almost tear up.

I knew why. I recognized this car. It was the one she and Dad had when they were married. A gift from both sides of the family. I remembered this car, playing in the back of it, watching the fields of grass roll by.

The tears started to swell up for me too.

"Jo?"

"I love it." I blurted, "Bobby -" I ran and embraced him tightly.

"Thank you so much..."

"I was happy to do it, I'm just glad I got you talkin' again, kid." was his answer. I laughed shortly, releasing him for my Mom to give him a tighter, more lingering hug.

Leaving them to it, I traced my fingers lightly alongside the Buick, feeling the light static rise to my fingertips from it. Inside, it was plush soft leather; white. The wheel was covered in the leather too, a classic big one from the 60's. The shifter had some of the same material capping the ball, taller than any modern one. the backseat was just as I dreamed of; like a booth seat at a restaurant. It was the same in the front, one long stretch of seat.

"Joanna Beth?"

I stopped my inspection to see my Mother's hands resting on the hood of the car, her body perfectly mirrored against its color.

"What do you say, honey?"

I smiled, the first real one since I first saw the Roadhouse smoke in the distance. In my pocket, I fingered the brass knuckles to give me courage.

"Let's hit the road."

* * *

**Note:** So it was Jo's first real crazy fight, I had to cast her as the distressed one unfortunately. I dislike how they made Ellen the damsel, at least one woman should be as badass as the men! So Jo, the newbie, takes the hit.


	10. Who's That?

Season 6

Sometime before episode 6

* * *

Nothing was happening inside the house from what I could tell.

Had Sam already been here?

No Challenger or Impala in sight. Then again I hid mine behind and tree line; Sam would keep it out of sight too.

I was sure I would beat them to the call about the nest. Maybe they weren't here yet.

Either way, it was quiet, and that usually meant the monsters know we're here.

Great.

Well I was gonna make 'em wait for it or come out to me.

My heart pounded for who could be in there for me.

In through the nose, out through the mouth, I took the ear buds and rolled my wrists to fit them in my ears. On shuffle, I pressed play and let the phone take a musical direction for tonight.

When the first few strums of one of my favorite songs sounded quietly from the buds, a grin broke on my face.

_Dance of Death_. Maiden.

Perfect mood music.

I roll my neck slowly from side to side, allowing deep cracks to burst forward. Giving each side a turn to stretch out, I hum along. Twining my fingers for palms facing my front, I twist them around and stretch out, releasing some more air bubbles trapped in my knuckles. I move my outstretched arms above my head, keeping the shoulders down. I applied the weight of my arms to the back of my head, bending it down to elongate the cervical spine. Rolling and swinging my arms to check mobility came next, each arm held in tension 'til warmth.

I dive down, continuing my stretching routine as the lyrics began. Hamstrings relieved, I fold forward, palms fully on the floor. My back cracks in response.

Yummy.

_"...chill the bones…" _I let my voice sing the phrase quietly while preparing my body.

From there, I lunge back deep, each leg in turn, my elbows meeting the dirt ground. I tucked my neck under my knee each time. Quads loosened next, and I'm feeling satisfied that I'm ready.

I pull up the shining maroon trunk and got my equipment; five blades: machete strapped across my back, Damascus Bowie on my left, three black pearl finished Whetstone Stilettos fastened to my belt on my right. Last, I stored Ash's brass knuckles in my front pocket.

Guns would be no use, deep cuts and hard hits kept them bleeding and weak, but severing the spinal chord and head trauma were the only sure thing to end them.

Ever since Sam and Campbell rode out to Bristol, we began to realize reports of the Arachne were popping up everywhere.

And the strange surge of monster activity storms on.

"_I was rambling enjoying the bright moonlight_," I burst out, clicking the trunk down, "_gazing up at the stars_."

Starting to walk toward the building, I pull out the left ear bud, tying the other to my sports bra, I unzip my Droid from my pant line on my back, scrolling for another selection.

I love the song but I need some thrash while hunting. When I cool down later, I'll return to it.

The song stopped Dickinson mid-lyric, and Judas Priest's strumming caught my anticipating ear.

Mouth-singing "jow" noises to match it, dancing on light feet up across the grass to the house.

I hear a sudden commotion from inside.

Hurrying, I climb the steps, drawing one Stiletto from my right, and my Damascus in left. Stepping in the open door carefully, despite the sounds of struggle. The small entryway splits off, a thin rounded wall at my front.

The music climaxes and continues a roll as I walked in, back to the wall and saw a flash of movement from the right side.

A hiss joins the clamor of commotion sounding from the room on my left, triumphing over the "Oooo" in my ear.

Before he lunges at me, I throw the Stiletto, and the singing begins.

It lodges in his mid-forehead, crashing to me dead. I leap to the side to avoid him, spotting six figures grappling in the other heavily webbed room lit by a shelved candles.

The boys were here.

'_No hesitating, my body's aching'_

I step to help Sam - and was pushed out the open door, hard. I trip over the threshold. Balance regained, I counter the newcomer's shoving with Damascus into his belly.

He screamed his pain in my face, monstrosity showing intricately crystalized eyes and molted brow. I kneed, then kicked him back. He fell, head cracking on the rock basing the separating wall.

To be sure, I chopped the Damascus across his throat, and his screech was stopped mid-pitch.

I hurried in again, finding a short stairway leading down to the boys in the yellow glow. I stepped down, and grabbed the attacking creature pinning down Dean. I thrust him up and he hit the front window, arms failing enough to rip the buds from my ear and the jack from the socket.

The song continued to blast on speaker from inside the storage packet in my pants, "_...we're ready to hit the roof!'_

He showed his fangs, and he begins with a webbed jab, I block, avoiding the sticky substance, then round back with a stab to his throat. I sever the spinal cord.

Gurgling, he falls.

I turn to Dean who is on his feet, back up the stairs to chase another into the other room.

Another caught my attention, shrilling at me, a woman, who pelted around the bend from the other wall side at the beginning of the hall. I threw the Stiletto. She tilted her shoulder and it hit the wall behind.

I tensed up, lifting Damascus. She dodges the slash and claws on my right shoulder, throwing all her weight on me. I fall, but bring her down with me, momentum turning the impact to our sides.

'_Uhhh, Delivering the Goods.'_

We thud parallel to the fireplace; her back facing the rock.

She bares her fangs, I cut a gash on her low back, she pushes away from me, seething. I roll to my back, lift my shin to connect on her face, then force down my boot to pin her arm to the floor with force. I roll on my right knee, same arm clamping her wrist down.

No webs were getting me today.

Feeling the open wound on my shoulder from her claws, I tighten Damascus on her throat.

I was about to cut, but was wretched off and thrown on the couch, the music muffled.

Dean had lost his mark.

The Arachne growled in his efforts, poison fangs coming down on me. I kicked with my right, planting a firm flat foot to his gut. He made a vomit-like noise and retreated a few steps while I managed to slip on the knuckles in my pocket.

Dean and I pulled a switcheroo.

I launched myself up and slammed them into his face, his nose cracking and bleeding. He stumbled, reaching behind his back and -

_'Hot blood, doing good,'_

Fuck he has a Glock.

No fair.

I prepped myself.

"Gun!" Dean wasted his breath instead of focusing on the woman.

I arranged my blade to parallel the length of my forearm, and went for his wrist. It sliced, he roared, the woman was back on me from behind.

Damn Dean, again? He was rusty on the combat.

She dug deeper into her recently created wound, and I shouted, turning to rip her away from my right shoulder.

With a sudden deathly noise and spurt of blood she fell for the couch; Sam got my back.

I turn focus back on the male Arachne and he crashes his fist across my face, some web sticking to my brow. In the shock Damascus clattered to the floor and I step back.

He aims for close-range execution.

"Watch-"

I slide my right leg down into a lunge, ducking from the chamber, and let my last Stiletto fly. It sheaths itself through the underside jaw. Spinal chord cut.

Out, Dean didn't finish.

_'Yeah, Delivering the goods.'_

It was a perfect hit. It ought to be, I was insanely close to him.

Fearing his finger to pull the trigger in death, I immediately grab his wrist, returning to standing and direct it to the ceiling instead.

It discharges, I wince and release, he falls below the couch.

More were stomping down the hall. Two; male and female.

I ran ahead, Sam beside me.

Sam slammed her against the wall, and I slid to yank my Stiletto from the adjacent wall right beside my new target.

He snarled when I closed my palm around it, clawing for my head. I turned with the wall to avoid it, the plaster crumbling where I would have been.

The music blared, building up again.

I stab his arm with Damascus, pinning his dangerous claws to the wall, then drove the Stiletto into his side neck, feeling the cartilage crunch through it. Blood spurted out the side and slid over my gloves.

Sam and I made eye contact, he had yet to finish her off. He gestured to Dean who had another on him.

I understood.

_'Have it your waaayy.'_

It annoyed me how well we communicated.

Sheathing Damascus, I jerked the Stiletto from my last kill and threw it at the back of Dean's bulky male opponent's head.

Another hit.

Sam snapped his mark's neck.

After the body fell, Sam and I turned to face the hall, ready for a next wave.

None came.

"Clear." Sam affirms.

I unzipp my phone from my back.

_'we don't pull no-'_

Pressing the stop button, the air is bloody, boring and thick with no soundtrack. But I know how much music annoys Sam during hunts, so I ended it as soon as I was able. Even though the house was clear and the fight over.

Ten between me and Sam. One for Dean.

Man, a year off really slows one down.

Sam and I made eye-contact, and nodded to each other in confirmation and a silent 'thanks' from him.

I stepped over and bent down to retrieve my Stiletto from my third kill's throat. I then rounded the wall to the other side to collect the other from my first.

Dean had leaned forward to pull the one from the back of my sixth's head.

I didn't take it back from him, avoiding the older Winchester.

I wasn't sure why I was doing that yet.

All knives minus one, I stepped over the body and crossed the threshold out; my work was done.

"Who's that?" I heard Dean say at my back to Sam.

I scoffed.

Really?

I guess the candle-light was dim, but still; really?

* * *

**Campbell Compound**

_Later that night._

* * *

"Slayer!"

"Hey Mark."

We greeted each other as I stepped into the compound, resting my weapon's bag on the table while I rounded to the hall to the barracks. Third door on the right was my room. I opened the door and threw the pack on my bed.

Without stopping I returned to the hangout room, where Mark and Gwen were cleaning some weapons.

"Gwen." I sat next to her and started unzipping the bag.

"Hey there, haven't seen you in a while."

"I was solo for a while. Harpy in Oregon, Lami in Kansas, Skinwalker in St. Louis and Arachne nest one state up. I missed all the Shifter action I'm told."

"And the Djinn." Mark chimed with an unmistakable grin.

Gwen and I shared a look, "So I've heard."

"So you did just come back from hunting with Sam and Dean?" Mark asks with a tease in his eye.

There was no deterring him from digging at the subject.

I pulled out my bloodied Damascus, and started to clean it, "Yes."

"How was that?"

I rolled my eyes, ignoring his underlying context, "I saved their asses."

"Really, now?"

Fuck the day Sam told them about my story with Dean.

I really hope that Sam would have the sense to keep details about our...partnership quiet.

"More like Dean's ass."

Mark laughed, then took notice to my blade, "Where the hell did you get that?!"

I smirked, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"You know Hitler had those blades made special for each élite officers, he was obsessed with the steel. They're goddamn expensive how the hell did you afford it, you Nazi?"

"Please," I gestured the tip of it toward him, "I don't think I can handle anymore nicknames for me. Stick to one, it's getting hard to remember."

"You're just saying that because you like my calling you Slayer."

I grinned, "Doesn't have the same ring as Buffy, but I'll take it. As long as it's not a blonde joke."

"May I?" He gestured for the knife.

I handed it over for him to inspect, "Clean it while you're at it."

"How was the hunt?" Gwen asked.

"Fine." I pulled out the two Stilettos, "Though one had a gun, which is weird."

"A gun?" Her brow rimpled.

I nodded, "A Glock. They must really be getting scared of us."

Just then the door opened.

Gwen and Mark looked to see, I didn't; already knowing who was walking through the door. They followed my tail lights all the way here.

I just kept on cleaning my knives.

"Hey Sam. Dean." Mark's voice was obviously juiced for possible upcoming drama.

Sam's voice didn't sound, I knew he acknowledged them with a nod.

"Gwen and Mark right?"

"Hi." Gwen's response was terse. I had told her all about it, even the stuff about Sam and I. She and I grew close over the last few months.

There was a pause.

"Jo."

I turned at Dean's greeting, offering a light smile.

"Dean."

Mark 'ooh'-ed.

Gwen and I shot him a glare.

"I picked this up."

Turning back, he was handing me my third, dirty Stiletto.

"Thanks." I took it.

"Is Samuel upstairs?" Sam interjected.

"Sure is. I'll go with ya." Mark thrust off his chair and joined the younger brother with much too wide of a smile, leaving my knife on his table place.

As the two went to debrief chief Campbell, Gwen awkwardly got up from the table, packing her guns into a neat rows and folding them into a bag.

At my pleading look she responded, "I'm going to practice with Johnny."

Damn it.

Just me and Dean now.

The door shut after her exit loudly.

"So..." Dean shuffled forward and took Mark's old seat directly across from me.

My heart started to pound again.

Why the fuck do I still have that jolt for him after what he did to me?

Because I missed him.

I continued to clean the knife he returned to me, "So..."

"How have you been?"

"Good, you know," my voice was too high on the range; nerves, "Just hunting a lot."

"Yeah, I noticed." he chuckled.

I looked at him questioningly.

"Just seeing you there...hunting, from where you started out...it's a trip."

"You'll get used to it, once you warm up some." I grinned back.

It was returning already; the easy to talk to thing between us.

He shrugged, "So you and Sam teamed up?"

I nodded, gulping my secret with Sam down and putting the Stiletto away, "Yeah, for about seven months there. Then we found the Campbells and -" I waved my hand around to gesture at the room, "You know the rest."

"Everyone knew he was alive but me." He shook his head, a frustrated puff let out his nostrils.

"Well I definitely wasn't going to call and tell you."

His face visibly grimaced at my comment.

There was a moment before he spoke again, "Jo, I just want to say-"

"Dean." I interrupted him, "It's fine. You really don't have to say anything."

"Just the way I left things, I know it wasn't right and I know you're probably not too happy with me. And I gotta admit, having a Harvelle woman angry with me, after what I saw you can do is...a bit frightening."

He chuckled, trying to make light of the situation.

I let a small smile through.

"I just want to clear the air here."

I took a breath. I guess this talk was overdue.

"Look, Dean, you're right; I'm not happy with how it ended between us, but I understand why it did. You wanted a life away from Hunting. Being with me wouldn't be a complete escape from that, together we would constantly be reminded of where we came from, what we did before a normal life. And you with Lisa...I see how it's like a complete different world than what you've had before. I understand that now. I put too much stock in the time we spent together, I know you never really saw me as someone you wanted to be with. I guess you only really thought of me as in the family...and someone who was into you enough to bang-"

"It wasn't-"

"It was. And it's okay, Dean. I've learned from it. Growing from experience and things like that. Just, next time, when someone asks you a serious question like that, say what you really mean to say, don't just give a vague yes because you think it will make them happy for the time being."

"I didn't mean for that - I'm...I'm sorry, Jo."

"I know, and I forgive you. I've changed Dean, and I can relate to what your situation must have been like."

"Nah, you haven't."

"What?"

"Changed. You're the same Jo, just..."

"Better?" I grinned.

"More yourself now I guess. I dunno. I don't know what I'm saying."

"I think I understand."

"Jo, I just - I want us to be friends again. I don't want you to be angry with me." He stated, returning to the original discussion.

"We'll always be friends you jerk. And it's been a year, I got over your decision a long time ago, Dean. I'm not angry with you anymore."

There was another pause, and we met irises.

"We're good then?"

I nodded, and smiled, happy to get that out of the way, "Nothing in this air."

He nodded, "I missed you...all of you."

Another smile of sentiment pulled my corner mouth up, "Us too."

There was another pause, the air between us calm and comfortable, like how it used to feel.

He angled his body to put his socked feet up on my lap from under the table.

"So, what is up with Sam lately?"

* * *

**Note:** I constructed this chapter off of this quote:

"The character (Jo) was originally conceived as a love interest for Dean, but even the writers admitted that Jo came off more like a little-sister character. "In hindsight, Dean wouldn't be attracted to that character...He'd be attracted to someone who walked in the door, slaughtered everybody and walked out, and then he would say, "Who's that?""(Eric Kripke, S2Com).

Here I'm starting to build that uncertainty within Dean that he made the right choice. Jo has grown into her own, and now a tied-down Dean starts to feel more attracted to her newer personality aspect but is stuck between emotions for Lisa and a normal life, and Jo and his former/future life.


	11. The Dead

**Note: **Thank you so much JBethH for all your support to keep me posting! You're awesome! So I realized I have almost every season in a chapter, some even twice over, but I have yet to make one for Season 4!

* * *

Season 4

* * *

I opened the door with the dingy key the clerk had given me.

At least it didn't smell like cum. The last one reeked as if it the previous renter had paid by the hour.

The room smelled as the key did; dusky and iron-y. I just hoped this wasn't the scene to the latest murder in town.

I set my clothing pack on the bed, then turned to deposit my weaponry pack to the table. They were in need of a good cleaning after the

My phone vibrated.

**Mother**

Throwing it to the bed, I didn't want to answer.

I was still somewhat upset with her. At first I thought hunting with her would be great, it was for a while. Then she just kept smothering me. I wanted to find my hunting niche, and she just seemed to get in my way, always trying to protect me from the jobs we were sent on. Always second guessing my research and attack tactics.

I had to run away from her to even face my first vamp alone. Then that turned into a Hunterfest all its own when everyone frickin showed up and I got shot for the first time. When I met my mom at Bobby's after that incident she was all the rage on finding Gordon and Kubrick and killing them both for the bullet they put in my elbow.

I had no choice but hunt with her again, there was no escape. For months we would bicker on the job, until tension exploded again when I took my direction on a hunt for some Ghouls. It got the job done, but Mom insisted I almost died.

We parted on the worst terms.

I was on my own again. I called Dean, hoping to be of help in the area of Lilith, but the boys were too wrapped up in it to put me on a spot. When I called Bobby for an in, he bit, and I was put on research duty at his house.

Endless books and reading ensued.

When the big discovery of where Lilith was, they left me in the dust and disabled my car, to 'protect me'.

They could have used me. I could have changed things. If I was there, maybe...Bobby told me those wishes were useless.

What was done was done.

Dean was dead.

Four months later here I am; dealing and hunting. The two seemed interchangeable, I just kept on. Even hunted for a bit with Bobby. At least he got to see what I had grown to as a hunter. Heard my mom was setting up a new bar somewhere, heard Sam was on the job as adamantly as I was.

The family was falling apart it seemed. Or was it ever even together? Did I just put so much emotional stock into Bobby, Mom, me, Sam and Dean after our Hell Gate adventure? Did they see me the same way?

With a heavy sigh, I laid out a cloth on the table and organized my guns largest to small on the first row, knives on the second. I sat, thoughts weighted with all these queries of the past and began to take apart the guns. Then came the cleaning. It needed it after the month I've had.

Vamp, vengeful spirits, and I just returned from tazering a Rawhead to death after he got a kid two nights before.

Don't think about him.

It was heavy, knowing the drive that took me to get there cost the life of a child before I could even start the hunt. Not counting the one before that caught my researched eye and myself on the case.

It was hard to be alone at times like these, times when you didn't quite save everyone from the monster.

I needed someone to talk to about it, before I started crying again for the little lost boy.

I needed a partner. One that wasn't my mother. Isn't that what hunters do?

One could go insane killing the things in the dark all alone for too long. They'd forget what they're fighting for. I was already starting to feel that creeping feeling.

* * *

_**Meanwhile...**_

* * *

It was dark when the Winchesters walked down the stairs of a white house, settling and creaking from the expansion of the day. The only thing that made it eerie-er was the dead body that was strewn all over the walls of it.

Dean's light of his phone shone on his cheek, and Sam looked grim beside him.

"We're in Jackson." Dean spoke to Bobby on the other line, "It's not pretty. He looks even worse than Olivia. What about you?"

"R.C." his voice garbled through the speaker by the wind speeding by his car, "I checked on Carl Bates and R.C. Adams. They've redecorated... in red."

"What the hell is going on here, Bobby? Why did a bunch of ghosts suddenly want to gank off-duty hunters?"

"I'm not so sure they're only gunning for them. I think they're coming for Hunters period."

"All of us? What did you see?"

"Someone I ain't seen in years, someone dead. He tried to kill me."

"Bobby-"

"I'm fine, haulin' ass back to my place, but you guys need to get the word out. I'm getting Ellen, but...Jo didn't answer."

Immediately he pictured the last scenes and plugged her in the situation. Dean felt as if an ice-chunk deep under the skin traveled down from his brain to his navel.

"We're on it." Dean threw himself into the car, Sam followed, catching on to the sudden urgency of the situation.

"Where is she?"

* * *

There was a knock on my motel door.

I felt the face of confusion meld into my features, and looked at the clock.

A visitor at 1:15 am?

Sliding my father's clean knife from off the table and into my hand, I walked over and slowly opened the door.

The knife relaxed in my hand from behind my back.

It was just a little kid; 8 maybe 9.

I opened the door wider.

"Hey there Buddy."

"Hello."

"Are you lost?"

"Yeah."

He walked right into the room without invitation.

Well alright then.

I backtracked quickly and threw a long cloth over my weapons on the table, sliding the knife in my hand instinctively into my belt. I went over and swept my phone from the bed.

**14 missed calls**

**Mother**

**Bobby**

Woah. Silent mode is really a killer.

Putting call backs on the to-do list, I ignored the warnings of voicemails for now, and turned back to the kid.

"Alright, let's start with your parents number, do you remember-"

The little boy was just staring at me, suddenly drenched, soaking the carpet, leaking drops of water all over.

"What-"

"It had me, it was holding me under the water...I kicked but it wouldn't let go."

My spine stiffened.

It happened; I was going insane.

Gulping, I gripped the phone tight and sucked in a breath.

"Ookay." I turned my back to the allusion and sank down on the bed, eyes wide open for fear of what was in the room. I even felt his presence thickening the air behind my back.

I took a deep breath, "He's not real."

"I was." The kid was in front of me.

I screamed at his sudden reposition, and jumped on the bed.

"Your death wasn't my fault. I wasn't even there!"

"Exactly." Another voice answered from the open closet directly across the bed.

I whipped my head to her. She was blonde, bits of hair ripped out from her skull, leaving gruesome swelling pink and red scars scattered all over what should have been a full head of hair.

Hair like my color.

I felt a chill rake deep under my skin; I had found a chunk of her hair in the vents of H.H. Holmes' old building. Her name was Katie Burns.

"You weren't _there_ to save us. If you were, we would be making with the living."

I felt water soak up the knees of my jeans while staring at her. Tearing my eyes from her dirty form, I returned to the kid who crawled over to me, the wetness fell from him in puddles to drown everything he touched.

I scrambled from the wet sheets, and turned to take the flight response.

In front of the door stood a line of others I immediately recognized, catching the theme my head decided to play tonight. One was a teenage girl who had been wrapped up and turned to a vamp; her head was hanging on by a strap of skin. The dead man who had been eaten by the Ghoul, he still had the bullet I put between his eyes. The woman who was possessed and was forced to shoot herself in the head with one of my guns, the hole through her temple still dripping blood and brain over her shirt. The demon was making a cruel point to my mother and me.

I whirled to the window for escape.

Katie grabbed a lock of my hair and pulled it clean off.

I screamed, head jerking back, eyes tearing and torn from the window, feeling the blood seep from my head.

The Ghoul man appeared in front of me before I could make out what was happening.

"You should have known it wasn't the REAL me, you should have known he ATE ME!"

He raised my Browning Hi Power to steady between my widening eyes. Before he pulled the trigger, instinct forced my action. I gripped my father's knife and slashed at his hand. The gun dropped to my feet as he dissipated into the air with the momentum of my strike.

Pure Iron blade.

He was a ghost.

They were all ghosts.

The teenage vamp girl swung my machete horizontally on my left, hoping to catch my neck. I dropped, feeling the whoosh of the blade over my head, grabbing my gun.

It wasn't the one I needed though. I needed my Ithaca. It had salt rounds right next to it ready to go.

I slashed at the girl's feet, and she too, disappeared into the air. Jumping to my feet I slashed at the persons around me, but they kept replacement of the other ghosts I had dispersed moments before.

"Please," I cried, "I didn't mean for any of you to die!"

The bullet-hole woman shoved me, I flew across the room, hit the corner of it and fell hard on the table, knocking over chairs and weaponry all over the floor. Bloodied, desperate and crying, I grabbed the salt container from my bag and my Ithaca that was lying unprotected on the floor.

"AH!" I screamed when there wasn't any rounds in it.

With the salt container, I tried to form a circle, but the attacks from the five of them would never cease to try and grab at me brutally, leaving welts and raking over my skin from their nails turned claws in vengeful energy. Each time the boy touched me I felt the water bubble up in my lungs.

"PLEASE!" I screamed, gargling the water in my throat from the boy. I threw salt at them, and it eased the flood inside me when the boy would disappear.

Then my eyes caught a hold of three rounds under the over turned table. I brandished my knife to make the little boy and woman vanish, the rolled to grab them.

They were in my fingers when the vamp girl hissed and tried to claw at my face. I struggled to turn and let her hack at my back while I loaded the gun. I snapped it shut, and it was set.

I whipped my torso around and pulled the trigger, screaming.

All five caught the blast of rock salt, and faded quickly into the air.

I didn't have much time. I grabbed the remaining bullets scattered on the floor, and drew a salt line around me.

It was just about complete before Katie appeared and gripped my hair again. I shot her, catching an approaching teen and little boy in the range.

I finished the line, tears streaming hot.

I double-gripped the knife and the shotgun in one hand, my other at the hilt and finger on the trigger.

When the Demon woman and the Ghoul appeared, I was ready.

"WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?"

The end of my last word was clouded by another loud discharge.

They were gone instantly, and the door behind them flew open in a hurry.

Who I saw burst from it chilled my core all over again. My aim faltered.

"No." I sobbed, "No, please, no!"

Dean.

Gun in hand, aimed to take me out like the rest of them.

"Not you, not you. I'm sorry, I wanted - to save you..." Crying, I adjusted to shoot.

His hands immediately followed barrel-point protocol, thrusting his own gun into the back of his jeans.

"Woah, woah, Jo, it's me, I'm not a ghost."

I sucked in a whimper of disbelief, shaking my head.

"No. No. No. I saw your body..."

"Jo listen to me-" he paused to blow away Katie in a loud fire, then turned back to me, "I'm alive. I'm right here."

Sam bawled into the room, shotgun raised.

I raised mine to shoot.

"JO-" Dean's green eyes were wide and flinching.

I shot the Ghoul man who had appeared beside him.

"Dean?"

He relaxed, "yeah."

"How?"

"An Angel."

I scoffed through tears.

It was eerily quiet, no spirits were clawing at me, trying to kill me...it was simply silent. I stared at Dean, amazed he was real, actually standing right in front of me.

Sam was checking the room.

"I think they cleared out." he informed us, "They don't like fair fights."

My lips rolled in on themselves, trying to keep back another wave of tears. This was all too much; the Ghosts trying to kill me, me almost killing Dean, Dean being alive, Angels exist?

I fell forward, unthinking, into his chest.

Dean simply held my head with one hand and wrapped his arm around my mid-back. I kept the crying as quiet as the room, but I knew he could feel my shaking all the same.

He stroked my hair.

"It's over now."


	12. With Benefits

**Note:** Infused from the plot-line of episode 15 of the same title. Some of he dialogue is not my own.

* * *

Season 8

* * *

Back on the boat, Dean and I opened the conversation again.

Mainly, it had strayed nowhere from the fact that he and Sam had to deal with the trails now. He failed to give me any reason I couldn't be apart of that fight. It was strange, I know he wanted me to be there with him, but he wasn't opening up to the fact that he doesn't trust anyone but himself, and couldn't give me a yes or no answer.

It was very vague, wish-washed, and getting on my nerves.

He got a text that interrupted us.

Dean let a heavy sigh release reading it.

"What is it?" I asked, half-annoyed.

"An old friend of ours who needs our help apparently."

I rolled my eyes, "and that would be...?"

"James. Frampton."

My breath caught in my lungs for a second, and I fiddled with a post-it on the table beside me.

"Oh."

Dean's expression furrowed, eyes investigative.

After a moment of observing me he asked plainly, "What was that?"

"What?"

His head tilted at me.

"What?!" I was starting to get irrationally defensive.

Why? Just tell him, damn it.

"Fine. While you were gone I needed some help...James and I kept in touch since we ran into him last and we - reconnected..."

"I don't want to hear it." Dean immediately shut his eyes and shook his head, waving his hand at me all the same, as if trying to wipe the image away.

"Dean-"

"Nope."

"Are you going to help him at least?"

He shook his head rapidly.

"He could be in real trouble, Dean."

"Not caring at the moment."

"Why because we had sex?"

Dean's whole body twitched violently, "Could you not?"

"You can't hold that against him! That has loads of past-tense on it. And out of the two of us who should be jealous of other people the other has 'lived' with-"

"Lived?"

I shook my head, irritated, "Something and I Kevin used to say to each other -" I said quickly, waving the thought away with my hands.

"That was your guys' code word for sex?" Dean laughed, interrupting me again.

"Point is -" I interjected, then was suddenly at a loss for words, "You had sex with an Angel!" I blurted.

"Anna didn't have her Grace then!"

"Never mind, it shouldn't matter!"

We both clamored the sentences at once.

"You guys, this isn't a jealousy issue!" Sam invited himself into the conversation.

Dean and I both turned to him, both having forgotten he was there.

"This is the snag you two have hit this snag year after year. It's inevitable and funny too, everyone sees how this will end but you two."

"Yeah," Kevin, who was also miraculously there, chimed in, "You guys are like the Mom and Dad of the gang, you just have to end up together."

"Ew."Dean and I reacted at the same time.

The prophet tilted his head at an angle, "C'mon you guys know what I meant."

I had to say something, still confused, "Side note; where did you guys come from?"

Sam and Kevin both scoffed and rolled their eyes.

"Just because you two fade into your couple talks doesn't mean the rest of us cease to exist." Kevin answered smartly.

"Who is this everyone, by the way?" Dean asked his brother aggressively.

"Bobby did, Garth, Kevin, Cas..." Sam struggled for more names.

"Wow, shortlist."

Not to mention one dead, but I didn't say that part a loud, "Should we be sad about that?"

"Anyway, point is, you two always just seem to come back to each other. It's not hard to see one day you guys will finally just stay together." Sam shrugged.

I turned my head to Dean, his look to me delayed by seconds.

"He's right."

"Hey, I'm not the one who was like, 'we need time'."

I raised my eye-brow and quirked my lip, "Was that an impression of me?"

"You are so ADD today."

"Well now you're having reservations too, Dean." I circled to the original topic.

"Yeah 'cause -"

He paused and glanced to our two eavesdroppers, who were still in the room.

I rolled my eyes, "Mommy and Daddy are talking, kiddies, why don't you go play together outside?"

Sam, Kevin and I shared a laugh, and Dean shot his glance immediately back to me.

"Not funny."

The boys clamored up the stairs and to the open, outside part on the boat.

"Lighten up, tuts."

He crossed his arms and leaned on the wall opposite to me, starting to talk again now that they were gone.

"I don't like the Witchcraft."

I heaved a sigh, irritated by my prior knowledge that this would have come up again one way or another.

"We've been over this - "

"Everyone who has ever practiced ends up with some kinda problem, and sometimes they can be deadly. I don't want you to pull that number. I want you out before there's even the slightest chance of something getting to you, can you understand that?"

"Yes. But I'm not going to take it that far, Dean, I'm not even close to touching black arts. I got a taste of that while you were gone and it was intense. Too intense. What I don't think you're understanding is that it gives me that edge in the fight. We deal with some powerful guys. I'm small. I've got to have a leverage on them to boost me. You need to trust that I am in control."

"It's hard to, after all I've seen."

"And it will take you some time, I get it, but just give me that time to build your trust for it."

Dean arched away from the table, shoulder in his ears as if to stretch his low back.

There was a small pause while he got himself upright, thinking about my words.

"Why do we do this? It's so simple but at the same time so complicated." he murmured.

I took a breath, "Yeah. But this isn't anything that new Dean, you freaking out when I'm ready to start something serious with you. Let me just tell you now I can't take another year. Hell, Lisa and Ben, Purgatory, you always come back and we always start something. It's just built up so much over the years and gap years now that it could finally be the real thing. If that's what you want it to be. I love you Dean, that's just it. Whatever you want to do with that is your decision and I hold nothing against you. But if we do this, we love each other for the way we are. As is."

He unfolded his arms and placed his palms backwards on the counter.

"Well now that you've gone all mature on me..."

I laughed through closed lips, the smile coming easy.

It was really nice not to be stressed about this topic for once. I just hoped Dean had the same attitude.

He took a breath before continuing,"Purgatory really...changed me. It sounds lame but It really did. And now with Sammy doing the trials, I just know now that I will _never_ leave this life. I'll always go willingly with Sam or against any bad mother who wants to call up his directorial début on the Apocalypse. I've come to terms with that now, It's just who I am. I'm not the one to give you the adventures of a home life, Jo, I just can't promise you that."

"Is that what you've worried about?"

He shuffled, arms crossed tighter.

"Dean, I know that. I've accepted that too. Hell, I don't see a life for myself away from Hunting. The road and the hunt is our home, let's just be together while we do it. No half and half. All in. That's what I'm asking. That's all I want; you and me in this."

He stepped forward, "Yeah?"

"Yes."

He nodded, close enough for me to tilt my neck to view his face.

When he leaned down, I know it was his way of saying everything he couldn't think of just then, his way of affirming our new relationship. Our lips met in a short but meaningful kiss.

He held my face when we parted.

"There is no way you're coming on this job with us though."

"You're not seriously threatened by James after-"

He kissed me in interruption.

I pushed him back.

"I'm coming. Deal with it."

* * *

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Dean and my 'beer run' (quickie in the Impala/actual beer run) returned us to a Familiar. After my explanation to the boys about just what she was, the woman started the sour face at me.

Her attitude toward me came down harsher when she told us who she belonged to. So James' Community did allow him a Familiar. She must have learned about James' and my history... awkwardness on an already awkward situation with me and Dean.

Yay.

I was just loving past Jo and her determination to be apart of the hunting group.

Then she started to explain James' problem, and I grudgingly admitted to myself I was the perfect person to be that intermediary between Hunter and Witch relations. I could even see undercover work coming up for me in his Community he was talking about before.

"Well, here's the thing. Uh, witches - not real fans." Dean commented snarky.

I punched his shoulder, "Hey."

Portia stepped closer to us and got right in front of him.

"Really?" Her clear voice had a bite to it,"Well, James is a cop with a spotless record. He's used his skills for nothing but good."

I stepped to her side, angry with the angle he was talking, "Yeah, why don't you lose the ignorant bigotry for maybe two seconds and give him a shot?"

Portia turned her body to me and growled audibly, letting me know she in no way needed my words to help her out.

I stood my ground, facing her in turn, staring right back at her. I'm tired of stupid jealousy kicks. James was an old friend and I would help him, no matter how much his bitch or Dean didn't want me to.

For a moment we glowered at each other, the air between our close bodies tense as she continued her low growl.

"That was incredibly hot."

We ladies shifted our necks to direct a new kind of glare at Dean, who whispered it to Sam.

Portia scoffed, and I gave Dean my 'really?' face.

"It was pretty hot." Sam supported his brother quietly.

While Portia shook her head at both, I settled to ignore them, launching right into hounding her (pun intended) for details of the job.

This would be an awkward one, with two sensitive topics coming at me from both sides; James and my former relations and practicing the craft with a skeptical boyfriend. This was a job we would all just have to work through.


	13. Sad Memories I Cannot Recall

Note: I've posted so quickly because I have so much time on my hands and so much inspiration!

* * *

Season 5. Directly following episode 10: Abandon All Hope.

* * *

The beer bubbles boiled up in a gentle consistency, pushing all the other bubbles to the edge of the glass.

I'm drunk, that was clear from the three darkest beers they had on draft.

Dark is what I like, I decided.

It got me drunk faster.

And I liked it that way.

Yummy yummy in my tummy.

I removed my focus from the beer then to the grained wood of the bar.

I burped loud and giggled to myself, thinking how Mom would -

No.

No thinking about it.

Fuck it.

All of it.

Fuck life.

Fucking...that sounded good now.

Another yum.

I chugged the last of the beer, glass still cold on my fingers, and slammed it down on the bar.

Done.

Like I was with everything.

I turned, ignoring the bartender's babbling about a safe ride home. I waved him off and continued my way on the street. I walked to the parking lot, feeling pressure of the liquid in my stomach and fizzing my head.

Climbing into the Buick, I turned the engine over and took direction, ignoring what was maybe the 8th phone call from Bobby.

* * *

I walked around the house, pulling up dust from my wheels in the front.

Bobby's house was dark; everyone inside asleep.

Hearing noises in the back, drawn to them; noises familiar to my ears.

The light in one of the garages was on.

The garage; the Impala parked inside.

Score one for me.

Dean was definitely in there.

Reaching my arm's full length on the side of the garage, I hung off the edge of the opening. watching him work from under the hood, his muscular arm smirked in grease.

Yum.

"Heythere, Deano."

He jumped, "Jesus- Jo?"

He asked after he got a good look at me.

Slamming down whatever tool was in his hand on the red box behind him, he turned toward me aggressively.

"Where the hell have you been? Know how to answer the phone much?"

I walked along the black beauty of a car, closer to him, trailing my fingers on its steel as he came down on me.

Really, I wasn't listening to his words.

I was just watching his lips move.

Yummy.

"You can't just take off-"

I was close enough to take the chance, so I did.

On tip-toes, I crashed my lips into his, my hands grasping the back of his head and the side of his face.

My lips tingled moving against his.

Damn, it felt good.

I bit his plump bottom one lightly, dragging out and releasing.

Before I could latch to him again, his hands kept me at a distance.

"What was that?"

In anticipation, I rolled my bottom lip under my own teeth and groaned.

"C'mon Dean, juss let this happen."

I leaned in, eyes closing again.

He pressed back, licking his lips.

"Are you drunk?"

I tilted my head back at him, "Does it matter?"

"Jo-"

"So what, I've hada few beers."

"Damn it Jo, did you drive here like this?"

I ignored him, and pushed him back against his car, craning his neck down to meet my lips full on.

I went for it.

All of it.

He was struggling to fend me off.

He didn't want to.

I didn't want to.

Everything tingled when we touched.

It was amazing.

Then I stumbled back from his pushing me away.

"Stop that. 'Comhere."

"No. No more of that."

I 'pffft'ed, undeterred, walking to close the distance between us again.

He stepped back, rounding the hood of the car.

I took down the hood and slid on top of it, crawling gently on his car; seductively.

"Dean..."

His back hit the wall opposite and his eyes glued to me. "Oh, God."

I smirked, and started to remove my jacket slowly.

Though my limbs were numb, they were still under my awkward command.

I tossed it aside, and took off my over-shirt quickly, leaving a laced up under-top.

Thank you past Jo for wearing it.

"Oh...God." he repeated, slower and more tempted.

I was getting to him. On my knees, I leaned over and grabbed his shirt messily. Tugging him to me, and locking my hands to the back of his head.

My in between lips caught his lower, and I moved them into compliance.

More moments came after our lips moved together. Delicious moments than made me moan and him give in to it.

Then he had to ruin it again.

"No, no, no. We can't do this."

Though this time his head stayed within inches of me, I took advantage and ran my hands sloppily all over his body. And left trails of wet kisses on his neck, fingers curling under his shirt to lift it.

"Jo-"

"C'mon Dean, you were right-" I spoke between kisses, "the other night. We should have-"

He pulled away without my expecting it.

"What?"

"Made withthe merry."

"No, we really shouldn't have, you were right."

"We should now."

I leaned forward, but he leaned back too quickly, and I fell.

Flat on my face from the hood of the car.

I heard his sigh, remembering my inebriation.

Hell, I was just remembering.

His hands were on me, helping me up, and I tried to support myself even while gravity swirled the whirlpool around me.

"You alright?"

I didn't answer, too busy getting the feel for my own feet. When I finally got to standing, I realized Dean's hands were on me, keeping me still. I flung my arms away from their steadiness.

I didn't want any of his help.

"Jo-"

I stomped past him into the junk lot.

"What the hell are you _doing_?"

"Gettin' outof here."

But he was already somehow behind me. I guess I wasn't as fast as I thought I was being.

"No way, you're not driving like this, Lindsay."

I spun around and shoved him, feeling myself stumble back more from it than him.

"_Fuck_ your blonde jokes."

"You're the one going to get behind -"

"Why didya change your mind?"

"Wha-"

"To have sex with me - why?"

"I didn't. Don't get me wrong, that on my baby was... extremely hot. But you're drunk and grieving, Jo, I'm not gonna do something you'll regret."

"Oh please, I've always wanted to have sex withyou, anyou know that."

I spoke over him beginning to answer.

"You wanted to the other night!"

"The other night was-"

"A lasst resort?"

"No."

"Lair, that was your whole pick up line! Lassday on Earth bullshit."

"Why are you upset? _You're_ the one who turned _me_ down!"

"It was the wayyou asked me, Dean!" I shouted, beginning to pace in front of him just to keep in motion, "Isjus like Meg said -"

He snapped, "Meg?"

"You will fuck all these other stranger girls," I spoke over him, "but when you finally come around to even _think_ about doin' that intimate with me, it might have been our last fucking night alive!"

Apparently he had no answer. He crossed his arms, face grimaced in discomfort, eyes dense in the darkness.

The only lights we had were the white garage framing his silhouette for me, and the sun-stained one cascading down to lighten me.

My panting was the loud in the silence after my shouts.

"Am I just a little girl to you? Some desperate little thing youthinkyou can manipulate because I like you so much?"

"No."

"Then stop fucking treating me like one." I spoke low, my throat horse, "You and Bobby and Sam and Mom all think-"

I stopped myself there.

Mom.

She was dead.

How could I have forgotten that?

"Jo..."

The crying hiccups returned, and I lost it all.

Dean stepped into the yellow light to catch my tears in his shirt.

But it wasn't just tears that was coming up.

I jerked away from him suddenly and emptied my stomach into the nearest junk car window, instinctively grasping the frame to steady my convulsing body. The sharp rust was throbbing up my palms.

When it was done, I turned back to Dean.

He stepped toward me, but I held out my dominate palm to keep him away.

His large hand enclosed my wrist. I tried to yank it out, but his grip strength was too strong.

"Stop-"

"You're bleeding."

"What?"

"Your hands."

I flipped my left palm up, examining the small glass shards sticking out from it, more blood than I would have thought leaking on all sides. It must not have been the rust that did the stinging.

"Well - fuck." I managed from between large, sucking crying breaths.

Dean's arm went around me, and I stumbled while he guided.

Almost falling to the floor, knees weak, he brought me up again by the wrist.

"Alright."

Once I was up, he slid his grip from my wrist to my upper back, then swiped my feet from the ground from behind my knees.

"Woooah."

He didn't stop carrying me back to the house.

"Too fast."

"Well you're the dummy that got drunk and now you're bleeding everywhere."

My eyes focused on a dark stain on his shirt; fresh and red.

"It's on your shirt."

"Everywhere; like I said. Don't worry, we'll get you patched up and sober."

"Inno time?"

He chuckled, "Yeah."

"I'm sorry I pushed you." I spoke while tears fell and pooled awkwardly into my neck's indent.

He was at the back door, kicking it open.

"It's the last thing on my mind."

We were in the house now, he lay me down on the couch in the Library on my side.

I remained as he put me, fearing if I moved the atmosphere might suck me into its whirlwind.

The lights flicked on and it shone too bright, too fast.

"Ah!"

"Put this over your eyes."

I felt something fall on my chest, he threw it at me.

I pulled the cloth-like substance over them as instructed, and relaxed again in the darkness.

"Why?"

"I have to get the glass out of your hands, for that, light is needed." His voice answered from in the kitchen.

I heard his footsteps make his way over to me after a few moments of rustling objects.

He sat in front of my thighs, they leaned on his low back from his bottom's imprint. He placed a fluffed pillow beside him, I could feel it spooning into my stomach and crook of arm.

I felt him take my right hand across his lap, my elbow on the edge of his thigh.

Was that liquid I heard him juggling around?

"OW!" the burning came instantly, the smell of alcohol filled my nose after. I could hear the dripping noises catching in a bowl between his parted lap.

"Keep still," was all he said as the pinching began.

He was not taking it easy on me.

With each chunk of glass out, the more sober creeped up on me. I was dying for water.

After the first hand was clear of glass he wrapped it up in gauze, not so gently. Wincing and pain sounds were heard, but still Dean remained hard-faced. He got me some water though, even had to tip it into my mouth for my lack of grip. I imagine he was quite frustrated with me.

The second hand was harder. I wasn't numbed up on alcohol anymore.

The blindfold came off and my eyes could adjust better to the light. It couldn't help that I could see the damage now too.

"Do you want a shot?"

"Ughh. No way."

"Just try to fall asleep, then," he growled.

"With you mutilating my hand?"

"I'm not the one who did this."

"I didn't either."

"You got too drunk to be aware of your surroundings. Your fault."

I huffed, and he continued.

By the time it was done I was exhausted, still feeling weak and slightly fuzzy from what toxin was left over in my body. A highly unpleasant buzz.

"Let's get you to a bed."

"There's no extra one."

"There's mine."

"I'm the dummy remember? And too many stairs. I'll just stay on the couch."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Gentlemanly though."

"Don't forget it."

He got up and walked to the light switch. Glancing back at me, his finger flicked it, and the lights instantly popped out.

"Night Jo. I'd hate to be you in the morning."

I scoffed, a bit resentfully, "Good night."

Dean turned to leave the room.

"Thank you." I spoke to his back.

"You're welcome." he responded gruffly, beginning his climb up the stairs.

I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the mouthful I'd get from Bobby in the morning.

Dean was right; it wouldn't be a pleasant one.


	14. Jo vs Meg

Season 7 Episode 17

* * *

"What is going on?" I whispered distinctly to him.

"I'm not really one to have that answer." Dean kept his voice low on the way to the store.

We hadn't had a moment to ourselves since Emmanuel/Castiel had joined our road trip to find a cure for Sam's hallucinating head. This was our time to sort out what the hell was happening.

I was just glad that Dean was finally letting me in, letting me work with them instead of beside them. It was everything I thought it would be. adventure, action, even great sex. Altogether it was looking like my year.

Dean and I had returned to an unspoken agreement of 'whatever happens happens.' and I couldn't be more happy with it. Two independent people who have feelings for each other, hunt together, and can be intimate with each other. Whenever we talked about us he or I would leave anyway, or things would get weird, so it was just best to let that part go.

Best friends. Benefits. The happy works.

I'd take it as long as we were alive.

And that was what Cas was, apparently; alive.

Shocker.

"Can't anyone just stay dead?"

Dean was pulling out his phone as we walked in, "If it worked that way, we'd both be long gone."

"I've only been brought back _once_. There's no use counting yours."

He didn't respond, I looked to him, and noted I had already lost him to his phone in front of the beer fridge and chip aisle.

Of course.

I rounded a different one to pick up some car snacks for myself.

I heard a loud shout of attack burst over the innocent store speakers.

Dean was under attack.

My hand instantly went for my Damascus, drawing it for the violence.

Dean had already thrown him through the glass cooler.

Another was behind him though, and I swept in swinging.

He dodged, I hit him with some brassed knuckles. He fell hard into the aisle rack, knocking it over. The rest fell like dominoes. I was on him again, gripping his shirt and hurling him to the opposite wall.

Dean got the stab in his mark behind me.

"Knife!" I shouted, knowing my Damascus wouldn't cut it against black eyes.

He didn't hesitate to throw it.

Catching it, I plunged the blade into his heart.

Demon killed, I turned to Dean in the sudden quiet.

He was holding his now broken phone.

"Oh, c'mon." He growled.

"Dean!" I warned him, suddenly catching the eyes of four new demons standing between us and our way out.

I threw him the knife, he caught it and sliced for his first target.

Taking out this time two glass bottle shots of holy water I kept stored in my belt. I ran at my first demon, slamming it over his face.

_"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus," _I began while he screamed as the glass broke on bone and the water burned him. I

_"omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii,"_

I punched the other in the gut with my brass and broke the other shot in hand over the back of his head.

_"omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica."_

Before the second could get up I kneed his stomach and sent my elbow into his spinal cord.

Dean crashed into shelved products, but I had to keep going, I couldn't help him. Taking a deep breath, I kept up my chant.

He fell to the dirty glossed floor.

_"Ergo, draco maledic-"_

I turned to recieve a mighty push from my first mark.

My low back crunched on the clerk's desk, and my head hit the pole beside it.

Ow.

He was still coming at me. I gripped the pole above my head, and lifted myself to kick him with both power in my legs.

_"Ecclesiam tuam securi -"_

He stumbled backward.

Almost done.

"_tibi -_"

My breath caught in my throat when I saw who was standing behind my mark.

She had her hand on Ruby's knife and was killing Dean's demons.

Who the hell was she?

The remaining demons evacuated their bodies.

Obviously someone to reckon with.

Another angel, I immediately guessed, who had watched over Cas this entire time?

"Emanuel, you son of a bitch." an unseeing Dean was grateful.

The body fell and Dean saw her.

His eyes lit up; he _knew_ her.

"Emanuel. Yeah, not so much."

I stepped forward, lost to both of their recognizing stares.

"Meg."

Icy fingers clawed through my body.

Meg.

The demon Meg.

I've just never seen her from behind.

"Dean, Dean, Dean. You got some 'splainin' to do.

Dean's eyes shifted almost frantically to me, who was already on the move.

"Jo, wait-"

His warding me off was too late; I already gripped her by the back on the neck and ripped Ruby's knife firm her hand.

Her voice yelped in surprise.

I threw her back from my hold on her neck.

She recovered.

"Why isn't it blondie comin' to play with us biggins."

I re-positioned the blade.

Dean tried to grab me but I was too quick, already attacking her.

I slashed, she dodged. I sent my brass knuckles to her face, she was knocked down.

"Fuck, girl, you learned a thing or two." she laughed.

It only gave me more fire.

I kicked her, she blocked it.

"Jo, stop."

Dean grabbed my arm armed with the knife, I wrenched it out of his grasp and pushed him away.

Next time he tried that I might just have to punch him. He wasn't going to stop me.

She was up.

I slashed, she avoided, but not soon enough.

She shouted at the gash on her shoulder I left through her jacket. I didn't give her a break, landing a kick right into her gut with my dominant leg. She was hurled back to more glass coolers, her body crashing into the glass, her head hitting hard metal bar above. She fell into the shard-filled cooler.

She chuckled as I leaned inside to take her by the hair and rip her out.

Meg slammed her face to the dirty tile floor, chunks of glass following.

I bent down and grabbed her bleeding back head, cracking it against the floor.

Red splattered the white under her face.

I slammed her head against it again, hearing another wonderful crunch.

She wasn't laughing anymore.

I kicked her over one, as she struggled to get up. My knuckles where white around the blade hilt, ready to plunge -

Dean's palm enclosed around my wrist, yanking me up and whirling me around.

Between me and him was the knife, between me and her was him.

For an instant the huntress mind gave me an instinct to slice him with it and move on to her.

But I caught those green irises and it stayed the action. I tried to jerk myself away from him, pushing back on his firm chest with my other hand. When he did not let go, it turned into a fist beating on him instead.

I hadn't realized I was shouting, hot ranged voice ripping at my throat.

"Hey! HEY!" he struggled to restrain me.

Twisting my wrist to the point of breaking it, I released the blade to him, and he pushed me back.

"Damn it Jo!"

"WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU STOPPING ME?" I screamed at him.

"Because I got demon insight, tuts." Meg weakly chimed from behind him.

"Shut up." he commanded her, then turned his eyes back to me, "She helped us awhile back, with-"

"Helped you? I'm sorry, what the fuck are you saying to me?"

"She might be useful against Crowley. We might need her."

I paused to take that in. It sunk deep, like an itch under my skin.

"Do you remember who she is?" I began again, low and tearful.

He blinked slow in response.

Spoke this time through grit teeth, "What she did?"

Again, he failed to give a verbal answer, but his hard swallow told me he did.

"And this is outweighed by how she can _help us_?"

"Jo-"

"Shut the fuck up."

His mouth immediately closed.

"You worked with her?" my voice broke.

"SHE SET THE HOUNDS ON US DEAN! Killed my MOTHER!"

"Jo-" He took a step toward me, apology in his eyes, but I pulled sharply away, disgusted.

"If you're going to be working with her, count me out."

"Don't do that, Jo. We need you."

"As much as you need her?"

"I know-"

"No. No,you really fucking don't. How quick you Winchesters forget death when it isn't either of you that is dying. Well I REMEMBER. And I refuse to forget or forgive. ANYTHING that bitch has done. And I will kill her for it."

"I'm here to help, so that makes us friends...would it help if I apologized?" Meg spoke again from behind Dean.

"I said: Shut. Up." He snarled at her, then turned back to me again, "Look, I've had to do this sort of thing too alright, working with people you hate, but there is a bigger bad out there, Jo, we have to focus on bringing it down. Not vengeance."

My eyes shot holes through his body, my own shaking in rage, "You are NO ONE to be all high and mighty when it comes to revenge. That demon has done more to me than you could have ever experienced from any other."

"She's done a lot to me too, if you remember Jo." He spat, trying to make a point.

"Fuck you, Dean." the tears were rolling now, knowing he would never understand. But I sure as hell wasn't going to make him.

I shifted my eyes to Meg.

"You best be waiting for me, bitch. I'm coming for you, and you aren't going back to hell this time. I'm going to make sure you are fucking permanently gone. The long, painful, and bloodiest way possible."

I turned on heel and walked out the door behind me, not caring to wipe the tears drying on my face.

Ignoring a concerned Emanuel/Castiel, I ran across the street and picked myself into an unattended car, stomping on the pedal and burning rubber on my way out.


	15. Alone

Season 7

* * *

The guard leapt out-of-the-way and I drove through the wooden stop planks. They broke off and fell as I turned and punched the gas forward.

"The sign."

"No, moron, we need a getaway."

That was obviously something I wasn't going to drive into. Dean would kill me.

Still speeding, I bumped it into neutral, wheel turned sharp, throwing up the parking brake and hitting the break at my foot. Rubber burned, the Impala's tail spun gracefully on the wet asphalt.

I let Meg be the first to take hits from Leviathans.

"You think we're getting away from this?" Meg's lips corner drew high on her left, almost abnormally.

"I know you won't be." I shot back, grinning fiercely, door already opened.

She turned to hers and stepped out.

Gunfire sounded and slapped into her arm.

I popped the trunk filled of extra Borax jugs.

She kept taking shots, the passenger window shattered.

My feet carried me out, taking the machete in my right, Dean's angel sword, Stiletto and my father's iron Knives sheathed in belt and thigh strap. I rounded the car, staying low and picked myself a jug in my left.

Meg was already set on one; pouring it on his face.

I marked the second, coming up from behind her and slicing the head off while she sprayed the next one.

She took care of that neck, and I threw Borax at the third, promptly removing the weight from his shoulders through a slice.

Black blood spurted.

"Later home nuggets."

She turned, I pivoted in her way, dropping my machete and Borax, pulling out the angel's sword.

Facing her, I blinked.

Breathing, in she locked to my eyes, "Really? At a time like this?"

I moved, slashing.

"C'mon, Jobaby."

Fingers out to snatch my wrist, she closed there and directed it away, dodging.

I swung my elbow into her temple.

Once.

Twice.

I jerked my arm up down, trying for the thrash out of her claws.

No give.

I grabbed her hair and forced her down into my knee.

She still didn't release her grip.

I wouldn't either; that blade meant her death. But she placed herself so open to bodily attack.

"Shouldn't you be helping your Deano?" She coughed out her pain.

I stopped for a moment until she looked up at me, attacked like a shark would to take off my arm.

She looked up at me, blood trickling through shining teeth, "Even if they kill Dick, you Scoobies will still have Crowley-"

I gave her a brass-fist full of silence.

She dropped her grip for a moment, and it was all I needed.

Slamming the hilt of it to her forehead, she stumbled back and I aimed for her heart.

Panicked, Meg through all of her strength into a swing from her machete.

I abandoned the heart and rolled to the side, hearing the _shying _through the air beside me.

She was still completing the downward attack when I came at her side.

Again, she jumped out-of-the-way, rolling into a lunge at the bottom of the grass incline.

That was annoying.

"Fine. I'll apologize," she swung the machete to the ready, "but your mother was really not my doing. I can get you a puppy to play with if you'd like instead."

I paid no attention to her talking; I was hunting.

Hustling down to her, she matched my pace backward.

She sliced her large blade in a spate of vertical and horizontal strikes, I stretched my neck back then arched my back out to avoid them.

Moving to her side, I aimed another metallic punch across her temple.

Stumbling, briefly, her lips still grinning. She dropped the machete and drew a nine-inch Ka-bar to match my parry to her side.

They clanged together loudly through my eardrums.

Twice we met metal until she struck and kept extreme pressure on it.

The edges gritted and whined together between our close faces.

She applied more pressure, I pushed back.

"And as for the sex, well, you should be thanking me, baby doll."

I got the strength to push her back, and slashed the blade in large, rapid diagonal movements.

Up: caught her on the cheek. Down: she clanged hers against mine. Left: they tolled again and I felt the throbbing from the power in my radius. Right: _Riiingg_ of metal on metal filled my ears.

"Before me, you'd never had a Winchester. Now you've had two!"

I thrust to her side neck, she jerked and swished across my stomach with the step. Laughing.

Sucking it in, I jumped away.

She slashed the Ka-bar back and up on the right diagonal - I caught her side wrist open-palmed and cut for the elbow.

Meg lifted to avoid, but was too late.

She yelped, and the skin flapped, hissing and opening red.

No more happy sounds from her.

I let her step back and feel the fear of her imminent death.

Her eyes found something behind me.

"Fuck. Me." I heard her grit.

I turned behind me, and saw the four band of demons approaching.

I broke into a run, but the Demon's telekinesis caught me right in the gut.

Falling backward, I aimed and hurled the sword.

It thudded into my attacker's heart.

He screeched and the souls inside let a last flicker of light out before dying.

On the ground, I flipped up to catch my footing. I ran for the body to retrieve my weapon, but the others were too quick and threw another jolt of energy at me.

It slammed me down hard on the grass.

Fuck.

They subdued Meg to the ground too.

"Kill the blonde. The King of Hell will see _you_ now." the shortest one spoke to her.

The two not holding Meg stepped to me, and I wrenched my father's blade out and swished it at them madly.

It cut each and sizzled, the demons themselves hissing.

When I jolted up, the Impala was on the other side of them.

No way I could get to it without dying.

Sorry, Dean.

I spun around and took off, cursing another missed opportunity to kill Meg and Crowley for not giving us a break with the evil.

I sprinted directly for the building's back door, hoping I wasn't too late.

If Crowley sent his men to pick off the scraps already, it meant Dean and Cas had killed Dick.

Whoopee.

Now they might be in a different kind of trouble.

Once in, I found piles and splatter of black blood everywhere. I even slid in a couple during my hurried shouts to Cas or Dean or Sam even Kevin, the prophet kid whom I barely knew.

There was no answer.

Searching the halls and the stairs, I got to calling Crowley's name.

Still there was nothing.

I happened across the fight scene. It had to be, there was such a larger blood blast pattern in this Lab room. This was where dick died, and no one was here.

They made their way out while I searched the building.

Retreating to the parking lot, I found the demons gone with Meg, our handiwork of black pools in the grass and pavement.

The Impala was gone.

That was good, and bad.

_Someone_ must have survived: good.

Bad: They think I'm dead and left me behind. I suppose I would have assumed the same in that situation. No phone to call them on, I had left it in the Impala.

I had to get to Whitefish.

Picking a random car from the lot, smashed the window open with my brass knuckles and hot-wired the engine.

Spinning out, I hauled ass to Rufus's Cabin.

They were all there, I knew it.

Cas would be talking about the care of some plant, Sam and Kevin would be bonding over education, Dean would be on his second beer and all smiles. We had always sent the tough going, this time would be no different, better even, than before.

They would be there.


	16. Betty or Veronica?

Season 5

Dean's POV

* * *

Knocking on her door took lot out of me, seeing and talking to her knowing what was coming next for me...took even more. At least the kid wasn't there. If He had been, I might have walked right into that house and just forgotten about it all.

Fuck Michael.

Fuck everyone else.

Including Sam and Cas and Bobby.

Damn this entire thing.

I wanted to stay with her, so badly...but that life was just never meant for me, I guess.

Who had we been kidding?

There was no other way this could go down; God's design and all that.

I would say yes to Michael, Sam would eventually say yes to Lucie, and we would set the world on fire. That was just how it was going to be, and I was just finally realizing it.

When I left Lisa alone in her new house, I felt like a part of me was with it.

No need to say bye to everyone else, they know how I feel about them.

I found a motel and packed up some stuff.

The Impala would go to Bobby, hopefully not to be chained up and gone to rust in that fucking lot of his like all the other cars. He would also get my jacket. It wouldn't fit him, but hey, he could find someone to have it. Jo; she would have my knives and guns. She had that collection going anyways, and I did try to offer one of my Bowies to her before; on her first case. She would like them.

Wow, that was a short list to leave things behind for.

I would have left more to Sam, but seeing as he and I would eventually in the beat-down of all time together, there was no reason to. If it was just me going, I would have left it all to him.

Thinking about it more, I guzzled down yet another burning drink of whiskey, and gave myself a last good look in the mirror.

When I heard Sam behind me, I almost dropped the glass.

Damn that smart-ass.

He tried to convince me, but I was way past the being bought stage.

Apparently, he knew that too.

Then Cas zapped me right back to Bobby's.

And everyone I didn't want to say my last goodbye to was there; Jo, Bobby, Sam, Cas...yeah short list again.

Son of a bitch.

They decided the shelter was the best place to keep me, against my fucking will of course, while they kept on with the finding absolutely nothing to save all our asses.

Bored out of my mind, I sat there, waiting for something, praying to Michael, anything to get me the fuck out of here and the Earth going down in flames to just happen already.

Well, something did, but it was nothing I particularly was expecting.

The door iron door's latch loudly opened, and I sat up to see who it was this time.

Jo.

She was giving me a look, the one that punched me right in the gut, that set her eyes burning right through mine.

Man, talk about everyone hating me now.

She held up a bottle of whiskey and two glasses, stepping in the threshold, and slamming the door behind her with a free foot.

"You know you're locked in here now too, right?"

She set the bottle and glasses on the one table in the bare room, and poured.

"That's the idea."

I chuckled, "What, are you the last-ditch effort?"

Jo's glare hit me right between the eyes as she walked over, with the liquor.

I accepted it when she handed it to me, and she downed hers.

"What the fuck is your problem?" She snarled after swallowing.

I gave my best smart-ass smirk after my first sip, "What's yours? You know this is all going to shit. There's nothing any of us can do, Jo, so save me the pep-talk, I've had enough of them for one day."

"You'd think that one of them would get through that thick-ass skull."

"Yeah, well, apparently not."

"Then give mine a try, asshat."

I found a carved wall to lean against, crossing my arms and grinning down at her, "Let's have it then."

"Drink up." She poured herself another, just as I fished mine.

She brought the bottle to me, and filled me up again.

"I know you don't think much about me, Dean, I know whatever happened between us after Carthage didn't mean much to you, but it meant a lot to me. You got me through it."

"With my dick?" I said after throwing back my second drink.

I knew I was being a jerk, but I didn't care at that particular moment.

She punched me.

Right in the stomach.

Ow.

Guess I deserved that one.

She filled my glass again, to the rim.

"It was more than that, you asshole." Her voice was dangerous.

She swigged her own again, slammed it down and filled it up.

"Your big plan to help me get though is to get us drunk?"

She didn't answer before taking another gulp.

"Not exactly."

"Can we get to it then? Thanks for the alcohol and all, but I don't see how any of you are going to change my mind."

She finished her third, and left the glass on the table.

"Maybe I'm not here to change your mind, you douche, ever think of that? Maybe I know, on some level that you're right. And this might be the last night we have on earth."

Woah, the way she was looking at me now was a mixture of that hate from before...and a want.

Seriously?

She was going to steal my line like that?

Like the night after her Mom died. She was drunk as hell then, but she came to me, and I helped her sober up, clean up some blood, bandage and care for her.

I knew then about her crush on me, and when she came to my room that morning after a few hours of sleep, I didn't exactly object to her sexy 'thank you'. I know now that she still felt the same, maybe having sex with her before didn't exactly help that situation.

But was it right to take advantage of that? Again?

Even if she was asking for it?

She was right in front of me now, the space between our bodies barely anything.

"So what would you like to do in this body, before then?" she spoke softer, and leaned in.

It wasn't the first time we've kissed, but damn was it more ferocious.

She was pissed that I was giving up, and I was too.

Together we let our frustrations go into each other...and all over every surface in the shelter.

Heat was coming at me from all sides now: angels, Sam, Bobby, Cas...Jo was really the only one who I could release to. Even Lisa I couldn't let myself be with her entirely, no matter how much I wanted to.

After our marathon, we found the small ass bed to lay and nap on.

The bottle was emptied, and our clothes were on the floor, no need for them in the large, locked private space we were in.

"They say sleeping is good for you." She remarked.

"They say being a smart-ass isn't." I grumbled, tired, "Best pep-talk ever, by the way."

"Ha." She breathed, scooting closer to me under the sheets in the small bed, "I'm glad you liked it, but the goal was to get you to _sleep_ on things."

I didn't bother to move way or closer either way, it didn't matter really. It felt nice, and she was gorgeous.

I smiled, looking at her, "So you don't think it's the end? You don't want me to give myself up, you were just saying that stuff...to delay me?" I chuckled, not even caring about her deception post-orgasm.

"Clever girl."

Her smile curved and flashed her shining teeth playfully, "I thought you might like it. Now s_leep_."

"It's just trouble lately, to close my eyes and..." trailing off awkwardly, I decided to leave it hanging, not willing or even able to say the rest aloud.

"Well they also say," She breathed as she climbed on top of me, planting kisses on my bare chest, "that some nocturnal activities can exhaust a man to the point of sleep. Maybe you aren't exhausted enough."

When she straddled me, I felt a smile come up in spite of all the thoughts and feelings swimming, "Oh really? More? No way you're ready already."

"I can take more than you think, Deano. I'm always ready for you."

My smile grew broader, earning her one to match it.

I rested my hands on her smooth hips.

Looking up into the darkness to her familiar brown eyes, he realized they were the same color as Lisa's...with that familiar desire.

"With you on top of me like this, nothing else matters." I said the first thing that came to mind.

"So close, no matter how far..." she almost immediately sang in response. Grinding her hips against mine to the imaginary beat without my hands moving her too.

Damn.

"Couldn't be much more from the heart."

I couldn't help but _feel_ it.

"Forever trusting who we are."

"And nothing else matters." I finished, knowing that she could probably _feel_ me now too.

I sat up, bringing myself inches away from her face. I reached up to touch the soft blonde hair.

Her breath caught. After all this time, after all that's happened, and I could still make her feel this way?

No matter how much I didn't understand it, I liked the way I made _her_ feel how _I_ could keep making her feel. Even If I didn't exactly love her the way she loved me, there was still something between us.

There might be guilt later, but I wasn't feeling any of it now, with her on top.

And that was a something I could live with, or wouldn't have to soon enough.

"Metallica huh? What happened to REO?"

She smirked, her breathing staggered, "We can sing that instead, if you want-"

I kissed her lightly, her lips were as soft as her hips. She trembled, and I grinned, loving it, loving what I could _do _to her.

"I can't fight this feeling any more-"

"No."

I pressed my lips firmly against hers again, to stop it.

She drew back playfully, "I've forgotten what I started fighting-"

Grinning, my hands flew up, grasping her face and crushing my lips to hers. I was hard enough, and I wanted it now.

I flipped her and positioned her right leg over my same shoulder, her ankle resting there.

Round...I lost count.

"Never opened myself this way..." she started up the song again.

I chuckled positioning myself to enter her, and it just slipped out, like it wasn't even me saying it: "Man, I love you." When I sank in, I forgot about everything, and just let myself go into her body, fit perfectly around me.

I savored every inch and movement inside her, taking my sweet time to build it up. She groaned, and I pulled out almost all the way-before stroking back in, steadily.

I explored her, with every stroke she returned to my focus, as if nothing else really did matter...it was just was I needed.

Shuddering, she wailed, I knew she wanted my pounding, but damn, it had been awhile since my last night with a woman and I wanted it to last longer. She was just so tight...as if she wanted no one else but me inside.

That thought got me going faster, friction heating up between us. Sweat dripped, teeth bit, breath quickened.

I repositioned her and felt myself on the edge, so close.

"De-," She shouted and, I covered her mouth almost instantly.

It was great to hear, but Sam and Bobby didn't need to. Her lips and voice vibrated against my palm, her eyes squeezed shut and her body gave out, shuddering and tightening around me. Which sent me over the edge mentally.

Throwing her leg down I gripped her hips and slammed myself against them, thrusting and grunting as she whimpered, high and delicious.

I pulled out right before, and squeezed my member into the first thing I grabbed, and came into it.

No condom sex was the best, but I'd have to weigh the pros and cons of cumming inside versus condom wearing later.

"I think I just came into your underwear."

Jo chuckled, panting, "Who cares? I've got plenty more."

I laughed too, tossing them somewhere on the floor, then collapsing on the bed.

Together we panted.

My mind blank and happy, I instinctively snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her naked body easily against mine. Her ear was perfectly matched to my lips, "And nothing else matters..."

She gave a breathy laugh, "I love you."

I nodded, chuckling, and feeling a bit strange as that sunk in.

I mean, we've said it before this, like once, before and after Carthage...but that was family-ish stuff.

Wasn't this like that?

Ew. Obviously not, I just screwed her brains out.

But if it wasn't meant that way...what was it?

I did say it first...tonight at least.

Did I mean it?

Fuck it, who the fuck cares.

I'm giving myself up to Michael anyways.

I let myself breathe past the minor freak and let it go. This was about release and I'd be damned if I would stress myself out after good sex and before the end.

After a few minutes of silent, much-needed relaxation on my part, I felt her fidget.

"Hey," She turned, my arm gliding over her skin as she faced me.

"Humm?"

"When this is over-it's hard to think about, I know. And I also know that Sam wants you to..."

I opened my eyes, wondering where this was going. God, I hope not to the talk about what we are or anything like that...

"I just-" she faltered, "I want a life...outside of this too."

Son of a bitch.

I really did it this time.

Way to go Deano.

I took a deep breath, turning over on my back, retreating my arm off her and back under my head.

What do I say to her?

'Sorry Jo, I love you and all, just not that way?' or 'Sorry Jo, I know you love me, but I'm going to let an Angel violate me instead.'

She beat me to the talking, "I know we've never discussed what exactly we expect from each other, and I've had no problem with that..."

"There's a but." I said, wincing.

How could I do this to her?

Was I that twisted when it came to sex?

Yeah.

Fuck.

"But" she continued, smirking slightly, "if we survive the apocalypse; it makes me think ahead."

I sighed.

Damn it.

"I want to give it a shot."

I squeezed my eyes shut, as if to focus my brain on what to do next.

She was waiting for me to say something.

I turned my eyes from the ceiling to her.

"And I want to try it with you." she finished, after I couldn't find words.

I cleared my throat, feeling the air thicken between us under the sheets.

"I hear you Jo, and...I'm trying to think ahead, I really am..." 'but my ahead includes sitting passenger-side in my own body,' I didn't continue to say.

Instead, I turned myself on my side to face her, "Look; I know I'm not good at this talking stuff,"

She laughed shortly, "Stuff?"

"Take it easy on me, I'm letting this moment happen, alright?"

She smirked, nodding her head for me to continue.

"But I do know that this might not end well, and if it does end the way Sam sees it...I have thought about a normal life."

I've never felt so much like Archie in my life. The blonde or the brunette?

There was only one way I was going to make her happy in this situation.

I paused for a moment, averting my eyes.

I had to lie.

"If things were to play out that way...I could see myself with you, is what I'm trying to say."

I moved my eyes back on hers, and they were glowing.

I guess it wasn't all lie...hell, who was I kidding, it was mostly a lie. I really _could_ see myself with Jo...and I could see myself with Lisa...but if Michael wasn't going to sick his hand up my ass and call me a puppet, Lisa and the kid was were I pictured most clear, and happy. Where I immediately thought of when Sam made me promise him that stupid ass promise.

When I thought about Jo...it was foggy, like it was distant.

My answer satisfied her though, and she gave me a beautiful smile before plopping her head on the pillow beside.

"Night Dean."

She closed her eyes, smile still pulling at her face.

"Night." I gulped down the whole truth.

So much for post-orgasm restful sleep.

* * *

The bunker door opened, to what I could only guess was morning.

A dressed and blushing Jo stepped over, with a last glance to me. I watched her walk past Sam and Cas, avoiding their eyes, and stand behind my brother. As if her extra hands could keep me from fighting them off.

I glossed over Sam's face, I was used to him being angry at me, but when Cas and I locked eyes, hot damn.

I could feel the heavenly host of rage and disappointment lazer from out his eyes.

"Well, Cas, not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that…I got laid."

Jo took in a quick, hurt breath, "I'm gonna go check up Adam." she murmured and ran upstairs.

Sam cleared his throat as Jo ran up the stairs, "Uh, Cas, why don't you, uh, go keep an eye on Adam?"

Cas turned slowly, and followed her.

Sam's eyes hardened and took his turn to look at me like they all already did.

He just shook his head at me, "You dick."


	17. Like Family Once

**Note: **A page divider is represented as a change of character perspective. I've been fooling around with that lately, like my last chapter in Dean's POV, so I thought I'd venture out and shake it up some more. I hope you like it!

Before Season 1

**Nebraska**

_Roadhouse, 2001_

**_Jo_**

* * *

I lifted the rifle, it had heft to it, but I could hold it steady.

"Slow breath. Nose, then mouth."

I smiled.

He'd got me through knives a couple of months back, and his last visit handguns was a major theme. It was my third shot at the rifle. While mom was busy with customers I took my chance to get him back here, teaching me.

It wasn't hard really, he wasn't much for hanging out with the other guys in the bar. Whenever he was in there he'd just sit alone and occasionally flirt with Mom when she wasn't busy.

The crosshairs centered in on the can some yards away resting on another table.

I did as he instructed.

The breath was smooth, like the top-shelf whiskey at home.

Steady, I aimed and pulled the trigger.

Perfect shot through the side of the can yards away from me.

Through and through, hell yeah!

I lowered the rifle, and turned to him, grin on my face for the praise to come.

Instead, there was silence.

He reached in his pocket and drew out another golden 300 H&amp;H mag.

He looked down at it while he spoke to me.

"Inches can mean life or death, Joanna."

I said l nothing, clicking my tongue across the small gap in my front molars in disappointment through closed mouth.

Damn.

I really thought I did good that time.

"Bullets can only hurt so much, the heart is a sure target to get your guy dead."

He held up one bullet between us, holding it shining in his rough index and thumb.

"All you need is one to get it done. Don't go wasting ammunition over a few inches."

I shuffled my feet under his eyes.

"Take it. Try again."

"Yes, sir."

I took it from his fingers, and immediately loaded it into the rifle. At least I got that part down to his liking.

He sat on the surface of the bench next to me, feet resting where people usually would sit. He took a swing of his beer while watching my form handling the weapon and myself in taking aim.

Having his eyes on me was wrecking me. I wanted to much to make it through the center of that can just to get some kind of approval from him, some kind of smile, something.

I focused on the center.

I breathed just like he told me to before, and steadied my hands.

_Pow._

The discharge cracked loudly to the air and echoed.

Right through the middle.

"Fuck yeah!" I jumped in spot and turned to him, smiling.

"Hey. Watch that mouth."

"Sorry, si-"

"JOANNA!" a third voice rang out in a rage from the backdoor of the Roadhouse.

"Shit." I turned to the noise, gathering myself for the screaming to come.

I thought we would have been far enough away for her not to take notice. Lots of hunters came out back here and shot some round, after all.

"What did I just say?" His voice remained at an even tone.

I turned to him, ignoring it in the face of greater danger, "You'll be in just as much trouble, you know."

He spun himself around, smoothly so that he didn't spill his drink or need to use his hands. Only then, did I see him smirk.

"Oh, I'm sure."

Ew.

"JOANNA BETH!" she marched over, now in less distant space between the Roadhouse and the open field we were in.

Her eyes grew wider and her cheeks redder when they laid on the rifle in my hands, to him hanging out on the wooden table beside me.

"WHAT are you two DOIN' out here?"

"Mom, I'm just-"

"You put that down and get in your room, girl." her teeth were ground, eyes furious.

"Mom!"

She was all closed in now.

"GIT!" she pointed sternly to the Roadhouse.

I glanced to him, hoping he would stand up for me.

His eyes were on my mom's only.

His lips didn't open, they were just slanted in a gross grin.

I huffed at his lack of backbone; sure, I asked him to, but he wanted to train me just as much as I wanted him to!

Starting my stomp, I clenched the rile in my hands.

"Leave it!" she commanded.

I glared and gave her a snarl, placing it on the table next to him. I whirled around, my eyes right on hers all the way until I would have to swivel around to keep them on her. She didn't break eye contact either until it was too awkward to do so.

"What do you think you're doing John?" I heard mom's voice from a distance.

Glad I wasn't the only one she used that tone with.

"Ellen, c'mon, she needs to be ready."

"To hell with that. She's 17!"

"When Dean was her age, he was just about ready for a hunt all on his own."

"She's not one of your boys, John, she's _my_ daughter. _I_ do _not_ want her mixed up in this!"

"She was born into it, El, you can't hold her back."

"That's not what this is! What are you, recruiting?"

"This is a war."

"No, this is keeping her from a future, John ! You know how long she'll -"

I turned the corner and slammed the back door of the Roadhouse behind me, not caring where their conversation was headed next.

It was empty. She closed the fucking place early. No wonder she heard us, I bet she did it on purpose. She would be on my ass about every little thing I do.

Good news; while she was preoccupied with her boyfriend (or whatever the fuck he was) out there, and now that the bar was completely empty...I had a while to do whatever I wanted.

I headed right to Ash's room, and knocked loudly a couple of times right in the middle of the **Dr. Badass is; IN **sign.

"ASH!"

I heard some loud scrounging around in the room behind the door.

While he got decent, I turned around and climbed over the bar, getting the stool and heading for that top-shelf.

"ASH!"

The door opened, "What's on?"

I grabbed the premium Jameson and stepped back down, leaning over the empty bar holding it next to my questioning face.

"Sweet."

"You up for it?"

"Is Ellen gonna notice?"

"About the bottle? No. About us getting gone? Yeah."

"Where're we goin'?"

I smiled, both hands warming the cool glass.

"Roadtrip."

"Where?"

"Denver."

He grinned right back, itching under his long hair in the back.

"Right on."

Bottle in hand, ducked under the bar gate, "If we leave now we'll still be able to get lawn tickets and shove our way to the front."

"With what money?"

I slid out a roll of cash I'd been saving for two weeks at the poker table and video games, "Easy pickins."

"You really planned this out."

"I really want to go."

"Are you willing to face the consequences?" he wiggled his brow, moving to the door and flipping the sign over to say, '**Out**'.

"Do I care? I bought us some time, she and John are going at it."

"Nicee. Way to distract them. You're coming along nicely, sis."

I smiled wickedly at him again, "No thanks to you, I'm a genius all my own."

Together, we walked out the front door, having no fear of Mom or John hearing us.

Heck, I could still hear them, or her, more like. Shouting her head off at him.

_"I can't do this anymore, John! You keep trying to train her when it is not your place."_

I rounded Ash's pickup and climbed into the passenger side, shutting the door after me with a whine.

He started the engine, drowning out the screaming.

"Here goes our excellent adventure, Ms. Rebellious!"

* * *

"Then you should be the one to train her, El."

I huffed at his nickname for me, as our argument ran another round at how to raise my daughter.

"You don't make decisions for me or my daughter, John. I know you feel guilty about her father and you're trying to do something about it, but making her into him won't bring him back!"

"Bill would have wanted-"

"Don't you dare tell me what my husband would have wanted." My voice was terribly dangerous, unrecognizable to my own ears.

John remained silent.

This was why Bill was never a topic we should bring up together. It brought way too much hate to the table. And boy do I hate him for it.

When I answered the door to John that day, he didn't have to say much before I was screaming at his face. And for for six years he stayed away, until I turned around one night and he was sitting at my bar. No matter how much I was cold to him, I couldn't refuse his company. Bill would have shamed me for leaving an old friend iced out. It wasn't John who was completely to blame; the demon he was obsessed with was.

Since then he would show up a lot, and I got to warming up.

Jo remembered him only as Bill's good friend, nothing else.

I didn't mean for it to grow into anything...but John sure did grow. He was just about the only man who came around my bar respectfully and charming in a sense. And one who didn't push to get mine or my daughter's pants off. And the only one who wasn't scared of me.

Maybe that's why he got mine off after a while.

It was nothing we really thought about. It just happened one night when the kids were out and he stayed after closing...on top of the pool table.

This past year everything ran just fine; I didn't love him, nor he me, but we had something. An every time he'd visit he'd stay awhile, and we'd sleep next to each other and he and Jo would play video games. Even if he was gone for long stretches of time, he'd always come back, stay for a couple of days.

It was something like a family.

Jo caught on to us after a while, and used it against him as collateral to train her.

Feelings did start to brew, but neither of us brought it up.

But I would never completely forgive him for Bill, and he knew that.

Hearing John say his name again brought it all forward like a brick wall hitting my chest.

"I don't think this is working anymore, John. Whatever this is. I'm not sure it ever really did."

He still said nothing, just shifted his eyes from mine to the dirt.

"Whatever you're trying to make up for, just stop. She is not your daughter, and I am not your wife."

His eyes snapped up to mine and he launched himself off the bench violently.

"Oh, I know it." His voice was husky and dangerous.

He pushed passed me, to the dirt lot, as if to leave.

The tears were falling quicker the close he got to that black truck of his.

"Why the hell did you even come back?!" I screamed at the distance between us.

He whirled around, raged, "I was trying to make things right!"

"HOW?"

I stepped vigorously over the dirt separating us.

"How, when you were always just gonna leave us?! How did you think this was going to end, John?! There's no right that comes from this!"

He opened his mouth but I didn't allow him to speak.

"There was nothing right when you TOOK her father and MY husband to hunt your fucking demon for revenge! Teach her all you want, fuck me all you can, nothing you do will EVER change that!"

"Bill came WITH me, he knew the risk and HE TOOK it! I came back because, yeah, I did feel like I owed it to Bill to make sure you two were doing well. But it got to be much more than that, Ellen! This FEELS right, I FEEL like you and Jo are my own!"

"Then stop LEAVING! You owe it to Bill, to me, to Jo and to your wife and kids to let it be. Let Yellow Eyes go! So much more death will come from hunting that demon. You've got to let it go! Please, John, please...just stop."

He stared me dead in the eye. John's jaw flexed, his cheeks stretching to grind his teeth together terribly.

His eyes circled their way away from mine.

In that moment I knew what his answer would be.

As I continued to cry quietly, John's eyes focused on something else, in front of the Roadhouse.

The silence between us was thick, and he just kept staring as the tears kept on falling.

"Where's Ash's truck?" was what he finally said.

"What?"

"It's gone."

"Who cares? He's free to come and go. Don't fucking change the subject, John."

"With Jo?"

"What the hell are you sayin' to me?"

"Jo's light hasn't turned on since she went in. Ash's truck was here before."

I let a rusty growl tear out the back of my throat, very loudly.

I whipped the tears from my face, marching right past John and to the back of the Roadhouse.

"JOANNA BETH!"

I slammed open the back door, it echoed through the bar.

I climbed up the stairs to our house above the business. In front of her door, I pounded my fist against it.

"JOANNA BETH HARVELLE!"

No answer.

I twisted open the handle.

No daughter.

Swiveling around, I flew down the stairs and found John waiting there awkwardly for me.

"You're right, they both left."

"Where to?"

"The Iron Maiden concert in Denver. She asked me earlier this week, I wouldn't let her go, it was a big fight."

John had a small smile on his face. The little smirk he wore when he was holding back on telling me I was being ridiculous about something.

"Don't." I warned dangerously.

His face straightened immediately, "I'll get her."

"No." I spat the answer he was too chicken to give before.

"You just go, check on your own kids. It's only a concert. Ash will get her home safe, eventually. Or I will smash his mullet-ed head in."

Another silence settled over us, cold and thick.

"I could help."

"How?"

He didn't answer, just looked at me.

I scoffed, feeling the water well in my eyes and my cheeks redden in anger.

"All you do is leave. Shouldn't break habit now."

John nodded silently, turned and made his way out through the front door.

I watched him go, setting three chairs down from the table nearest to the entrance, and sat myself down to wait for them.

* * *

Awesome.

That's how I felt.

Amazing.

More positive words beginning in A.

Astonishing.

"Assh, Assh!"

He swung his head dramatically around, the longer part of it whipped to the other side of his shoulder.

"Humyes, Jo?"

"What's-what's that thing, I mean, what's it called when you have words in a sentence start with the same letter and it sounds cool?"

His eye cranked up, swallowing the gulp of beer he took while I had spoken.

"Alliteration?"

"Yes! Yeah! That'ssit."

He laughed ending it with his, "Oooheww!"

I punched him with a playful smile, "Redneck!"

He just kept on laughing, "You're cossfaded as hell, sis!"

So was Ash, and all of his 'friends', with whom we had joined company with at the concession stand. He was funny that way. In one conversation, one icebreaker, he could make best friends or worst enemies with new people.

We saw a few old timers from the Roadhouse on the lawn too, stoned and enjoying their glory Hunting days, or taking a break before getting at a case tomorrow.

We didn't stick around them much, Ash and I were too busy dancing around the grass. I thrashed my hair all around, caught up in the head-banging, free beers, and drags from Ash's joints he snuck in.

I was feeling gooooood, great, groovy.

Maiden's stage set was so awesome. Eddie's skull face rolling within the clouds painted perfectly like their newest album cover above the band.

They started with, "The Wickerman" and went on to my favorite, "Dream of Mirrors"...the rest just rolled on by my singing lips and jumping feet.

It was close to the end, so Ash and our newly made friends were getting a last round of drinks.

We had a system to get my underage self some: Ash would visit one stand, get a beer, give it me in the crowd and go get himself another.

Bam. Simple and effective.

But this round, Caiden decided to make the extra trip get my beer for me instead of Ash.

Yeah, free beer!

I drank most of it by the time they started playing the best encore ever; "Wasted Years".

Chugging the beer with Ash, we threw the cans to the nearest can and started to sing and dance to each other. Our new friends; Caiden, Patrick, Bianca and her boyfriend Matt joined in our enthusiasm.

The song ended with the roar of our voices.

We made our way- stumbling and laughing to the exits.

Bianca and Matt took off in a hurry to their hotel room, which left Ash and me with Caiden and Patrick.

We were walking to the lot when something grabbed my arm and jerked me to the side, off the path and into a heavily bushed area.

"Whatthehell?" I pulled my arm back sharply, and saw the offender, "Caiden?"

"Hey!" He was all smiles, "You're leaving now?"

"Yeah, home and all."

Where was Ash?

His grab n spin on me continued to wobble my world, my head flighty and my eyes unfocused.

"Where's-where's Ash?"

"With Patrick."

"Where are they?"

"Somewhere."

Caiden grabbed me forcefully and pulled me to meet his lips.

"Woah!" I jerked away from him.

"What? I bought you a drink."

"That doessn't mean you own me." I snarled at him.

The edges of my vision were fading away, falling into darkness. Everything else visible was...blurry. My knees were so weak, I was having such a hard time standing. A wave of imminent sleep washed over me, drooping my eyelid.

"C'mon, babe, I know you want this."

He grabbed me again, this time with both hands, and the pain of them around my arms throbbed sharply then faded.

Was I getting numb?

It was like I wasn't attached to my own body...like I was paralyzed.

"Stop."

I squirmed to get out of his hold.

"C'mon, baby-" he threw me to the floor, and I was lost to the vortex that was the world, "let's get to this. They are definitely working now."

I groaned, my stomach threatening to release it all.

I felt him walk around and stand above me, ready to position himself...

In one panic attempt, I kicked for his balls.

Contact. But not as hard as it should have been for me to be able to get away.

I got to my feet, as unstable as the ground was.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH!" I heard Caiden shout behind me.

"JO! JOO!" I heard Ash's voice scream from somewhere else.

"ASH!" I managed to cry before I was cut off; slammed to the floor again, between it and his body.

He tackled me.

"JO! FUCK-" Ash's voice was drowned out by noises of violence.

He was pushing himself up, waiting for me to struggle against him-but now I couldn't move. Paralyzed.

And finally I realized what was in the beer he gave me.

"That's it. You're gonna get it for what you just did to me!" His voice grunted disgustingly.

I felt his fingers at my jeans, pulling, prying, poking.

And then I felt him stop suddenly, as if he were frozen just like me.

"Holy shit." his voice cracked.

A gun cocked.

"Get away from her. Now."

That voice...

"Yeah, alright, okay. Don't shoot. Don't shoot." Caiden's voice has risen several octaves.

He obeyed, and I could see his converse.

"Stay right there."

Footsteps were rapidly approaching and stopped for only a second when entering the scene.

"Hey, just wait a minute, man, we didn't even do anything. And she wanted to-"

Caiden didn't get a chance to finish - someone had lunged at him and more violent noises of metal bruising flesh and crunching bone was heard.

Along with a long string of curses.

Ash was fucking him up.

Someone else pulled up my pants and turned me over.

John.

"Are you alright?"

I nodded, the little movement sending a world of hurt to my brain.

"Can you sit up?"

I began to shake my head.

"Yeah, you can, c'mon now. We need to do something, it's important."

With his help, I sat on the floor.

Unexpectedly, John took two fingers and rammed them down the side of my mouth quickly, striking the beginning of my throat.

As his fingers withdrew, I puked all over grass and leaves, heaving up everything.

"There we go, that's better."

When I was done, he slid one arm under my back, the other in the crook of my legs, and lifted me.

"Ash."

_Thud. __Whack. Thrup._

"Ash."

"WHAT?!"

"Let's go."

"Not after I kill this motherfucker."

"That's not going to help anyone."

"Try the world."

"He deserves it, but you don't deserve what will happen because of it. We're leaving."

After a few heavy breaths, Ash heaved out a curt, "Fine", and kicked Caiden one more time before joining John's side.

I saw a flash of brass; he was taking off his knuckles, they were dripping red.

I felt John's legs move under me and watched the droplets fall before the black edges swallowed my vision whole.

_**Hours later...**_

I woke up in my bed.

How the hell, what the hell?

Did I dream about the best concert ever?

I sat up in bed, realizing how stiff and sore my body was all over. Not to mention the pounding headache I had.

No, no that really happened.

Awesome.

I must have blacked out; Ash's continuing flow of beer and drags through the night really got to me.

The door slammed open, revealing my ticked off mother.

Not so awesome.

I winced at the sound.

She scoffed meanly, "That's the least of your pains Joanna Beth. You just wait."

"Mom,"

"Don't you dare even try to justify what you've done. Ash drags you in last night gone to the world. Said you had alcohol poisoning. Said he left his truck in Denver because both of you were too drunk to drive back home!"

"Mom,"

"You're going to be my personal slave for the next few months girlie, you have no idea what you're in for. Pulling a fucking stunt like that right after I catch you shooting. You can believe after Ash gets his truck back from Denver, he'll be right there with you with the pain I have served up for you two."

"Speaking of the devil." Ash announced himself.

Ellen swung her head around, eyes ablaze, "What the hell are you still doing here?"

"I heard Jo was awake." he turned his eyes to me, "How ya doin' trooper?"

I smirked, "Not to good in the headache and memory department."

"Really?" Ash laughed - but it was one that seemed forced, "What do you remember last, crazy?"

"I remember them playing "Wasted Years"...I don't remember our ride home or anything."

"Well, you were pretty liquored up-"

"Enough." Mom spoke up, "Get your truck you idiot, then get right back here!"

"How is he supposed to do that Mom? He doesn't have a car to go get it!" I snapped, "Let's all go in yours-"

"I'm not paying that gas! You two were idiots and made a stupid mistake! Take a taxi, and pay for it." Mother snarled, and whipped back to my face, "and you're not leaving this room!"

Ash slowly backed away, giving me a reassuring nod before he took off down the stairs, leaving me to another chew-out session.

* * *

I waited, parked a little ways away from the Roadhouse.

I didn't want Ellen to recognize my truck.

I was still angry at her, and I was sure she was still pretty raged herself.

Ash would have to walk from there to here.

I still felt it; that raw anger. From both our argument yesterday and the events of last night.

When I pointed that gun at that son of a bitch I, itched to pull that trigger.

Supernatural or not, he was a fucking monster. Like so many of the kind I've killed before.

Ash was opening my door and climbing in, allowing my anger and regret to lie still for now.

His face was serious, his jaw seemed permanently set.

The door shut forcefully behind him.

"Hey." I looked over at him, even-toned, "My door didn't do anything."

Ash glanced back without a verbal apology.

"How is she?" I asked.

"Alright. Ruffed up and hungover, but she seems fine."

"Does she-"

"Remember? No. She didn't have enough beer to black out, John, he slipped her the drug in her drink."

I said nothing, thinking about how good that little bastard's neck would feel cracking between my hands.

Instead, I twisted the key and turned the engine over, pulling out from the dirt side and on the road.

Back to Denver we go.

"Neither of them should know, Ash."

"Got it. I wasn't that drunk last night, John. I remember our discussion. I agree; our secret. They don't need that."

He shook his head, teeth grinding.

"It never should've happened. I wish it didn't."

"Only thing we can do about it now is everything we've already done."

And I meant it. It was time to put all my efforts into this damn demon, settle it once and for all. Maybe then I could come back here, back to Ellen.

Maybe then Dean and I could keep up the bar, send Jo to school, and watch Sam graduate...

But first I need Yellow-eyes.

I glanced in the rear-view, the Roadhouse getting smaller and smaller as I drove away.


	18. Turbo Lovers

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the song "Turbo Lover" by Judas Priest, I just love it and wanted to incorporate it with the characters who I think also love it! I don't down Supernatural either.

* * *

Season 7 episode 6 events from right after that and before episode 7

* * *

It wasn't too bad of a drive, I got to Iowa by nightfall.

When Bobby called _me_ to save _their _asses, I couldn't help but feel smug.

Finally, it happened.

Frank got an alert that a call had been made to the FBI on the capture of the Winchester brothers, and was suspicious if the Sheriffs of Iowa captured the right people.

Frank called Bobby, and the chain of calls ended with me.

I got to save the Winchesters and the Sheriff just in the nick of time with some of the Borax Bobby called and told me about.

Something was tense between the brothers, but I was just glad we were alive and out of there and got the Sheriff's cooperation.

I followed their little Acadian to the nearby docks, and that's where it got awkward. And not just because their tall selves looked so weird driving and getting out of that thing.

I hung back, with nothing to do but sit in my car and watch their argument unfold. I couldn't really hear much until their voices raised, and even that didn't last too long.

He let Sam take the Acadian, and asked me for a ride, bags in hand.

I was on my best behavior, better than either of them could have done, while I drove us away in the opposite direction Sam did. No matter how much I was dying to ask what their fight was about this time. Or how long they actually planned to stay apart.

But Dean was dead silent the entire hour after.

"Alright, that's it." I finally broke the glum silence.

"What?"

"We're going to a bar."

"What? Why?"

"Why not? Why the hell are you objecting to a drink? Did we kill the wrong Dean?"

I smiled at him, trying to spread the cheer as contagion.

"Shut up." he mumbled.

"See you say that, but all I hear is that you need an old-fashioned."

Finding a random bar, I forced him out into the suddenly rainy weather. Just in the distance between my car and the bar, and still we were slightly soaked. I dragged him into the busy bar with me.

Oh, it was Friday, I had forgotten. That's why everyone in town was here.

At the counter, we got our drinks.

At first he was stubborn as hell, not talking, just shooting, but after four shots he started to un-clam.

And four shots in for me, I was already tipsy.

Topics rose, random topics, hoping whatever happened between him and his brother would come up.

But after my fourth shot in, I had forgotten about it already. It's not like I had expected him to open up to me anyways, I just knew he needed a distraction.

And I didn't mind creating one. I was having a good time with him, sharing stories, laughing…just talking about stuff.

Then someone put a familiar song on the jukebox that made me immediately interrupt his story about Sam's fear of clowns with a light punch to his arm.

"Ow, what the hell, Jo-?" He laughed with a smile on his face.

"Listen!"

The drums beat eight times in quick precession, announcing the song.

I danced along to the continuing beats from my bar stool.

"Oh, nice," he nodded in appreciation, "haven't heard this one in a while."

"I love it!"

"_You won't hear me_." An off-tune Dean sang along.

I giggled at his liquored attempt.

"_But you'll _feel _me_." I picked it up, "_Without warning, somethings dawning, listen!"_

I turned and sang straight to Dean on the last part, animated due to the alcohol.

Promptly, I chugged the rest of my drink on the beats leading up to the next verse, staring right at Dean and handing over the singing part to him with some playful finger-guns.

He let the next line of the song go with a mere mouthing and small head banging to the beat.

"Hey! This is a sing off, Winchester!"

"Oh really? You dare challenge me on Priest?" he smirked, "No way you-"

I cut him off, signing the next line loudly into his face, "_How your heart beats, when you run for cover!" _

I continued to dance lively on my bar stool, then made a gesture for his turn to deliver, tilting my head in challenge.

"What'samatter, Deano, scared for a little musical competition?"

His face was smiling, but he was still reserved as he sang to me, "_You cant retreat I spy like no other."_

"Weak!" I declared.

"She's right," The amused bartender chimed in as the beat really picked up.

Dean shot him a look.

"Right?!" I exclaimed, speaking quickly, "turn it up please?!"

The bartender smiled and did so before my next line, that I was enthusiastically shouting, still in Dean's face.

"_Then we race together! We can ride forever!_"

"Jo," Dean chuckled out my name over the music, "You're getting a little too into it."

I ignored him, and continued to belt my heart out, eyes fixed on him.

"_Wrapped in horsepower, driving into fury_!"

"_So_? That's what good music is for!" I shouted back to him, laughing.

The bar patrons were watching us by now, laughing and enjoying our drunk antics, but neither of us really cared for the strangers, nor how we looked to them.

I motioned for him to take up the next line, still moving to the sharp beats, "C'mon, let loose!"

After a moment's hesitation, he dropped in, "…_I pull you tighter to meeeee!"_ he sang loudly back to me, face dropping into serious singing performance and pretending his fist was a microphone while I played the drums for him on the bar.

Next thing's next, we were on top of the bar counter, more drinks in hand, the patrons gathered all around and belting out the chorus altogether. Drunk me and Dean was loving the attention, dancing on the bar and air guitar-ing as if we were actually Judas Priest performing for our audience.

"_I'm your turbo lover_

_Tell me there's no other_

_I'm your turbo lover_

_Better run for cover!"_

There wasn't one person in there that wasn't singing along and jumping around.

"_We hold each other closer as we shift to overdrive,_

_And everything goes rushing by with every nerve alive!_

_We move so fast it seems as though we've taken to the sky,_

_Love machines in harmony and we hear the engines cry!_

_I'm your turbo lover, tell me there's no other!_

_I'm your turbo lover, better run for cover!_"

A little disoriented from the head-banigng dance moves I was employing, I slipped and fell to a knee after the last chorus.

"Alright alright enough! You had your fun. Off my bar! I don't want anyone gettin' hurt; off you get!"

"Alright, alright!" Dean was laughing.

He stepped down, making way in the crowd. Turing back to face me, he raised his hands, offering to help me navigate my way off the bar counter.

I placed both my hands in his, and still I stumbled slightly, he had to pull me closer to him so I didn't go crashing down.

I laughed again at my awkward and delayed body functions, and barely noticed that he still hadn't let go of me once I was stable on the floor again.

"See? This is fun, Deano, you gotta try it out some more."

We walked away from the crowd surrounding, who was still singing the verse loudly together.

"You know what? I had a great time, more than I've had in a while. Woah-"

Our bodies hit each other awkwardly, our height difference becoming a problem when we tried to walk in sync. Plus his arm was still around me, a weight that majorly threw drunk me off.

We laughed it off heartily, turning to each other, and locking eyes as the crowd roared the lyrics in the background.

"_feel so close to heaven in this…"_

It was a mistake to look into them for too long, especially like this, with my state of mind. I just couldn't look away.

But he wasn't either…

"Jo, I want to kiss you."

"Do it."

His lips immediately found mine as the song played on, "_…we shatter and explodeeee!" _

Next things next, we found our way to the motel right next door, got a key, kissing all the way, and finally thew open our room.

I ripped off his flannel, our lips still pressed hot and heavy against each other. His hands ran all over my shirt.

I lifted his over his head, exposing his body to me.

I broke away from his mouth to admire it, and he kicked the door closed behind him.

I licked my lips and dragged my teeth over numb-ish lips, humming my approval.

He glided my jacket off, and his fingers found their way under my shirt to lift it up and over my head.

I eagerly engaged his lips to mine before the shirt was completely off my hair and to the floor.

He broke away for a moment, grabbing my face in his hands and looking down at me, eyes shining in the darkness.

"Jo, is this- I mean, I know we're drunk-"

"Hush." was all I said before grabbing a face full of him myself and directing him right to my lips. They didn't feel numb when they moved against his, if anything they felt more alive.

He didn't need telling twice.

While I fumbled with his belt, he reached easily around and un-snapped my bra.

My back suddenly hit the wall- I hadn't realized we were even moving backward.

I giggled and he moved his lips down to my breasts, and those soon turned into moans of pleasure as his mouth occupied the underside of my boob while his hands worked at undoing my belt.

Fuck this was hot.

"Oh my god." I couldn't help but say when his tounge flicked over my nipple, each in turn.

Ever the multi-tasker, my pants were off.

I lifted his head to crush my lips to his again before I dropped his pants too.

We took a moment to struggle out of our jeans, before jumping right back into play.

His arms immediately went for the lift under my butt, and he held me against the wall, and I was just the right height to feel _every delicious inch_.

Together we groaned, feeling each other through underwear. He moved as if he were inside, and I found myself wet enough to were he definitely could be. The building friction between the fabrics was so fucking hot.

He pumped me into the wall, our lips unbroken.

I let out a frustrated growl, "Dean, I want you now."

Again, direction was not lost on him.

Pulling my closer to him and away from the wall, he found the first thing he could to sit me on- the dresser.

It was at a perfect height.

From there, he slid off my underwear within the blink of my eyes, and took off his own.

He grabbed my face in his hands again, and I felt his naked member rub up against me, as if probing for my opening.

I shuddered in anticipation and hit a glass decor that was behind me on the dresser.

Dean leaned completely forward, his hard tip sliding up to tap agonizingly at my clit.

His arms hurriedly cleared the space behind me of the glass, pushing them off the dresser completely. The glass crashed and broke on the floor, but neither of us cared.

I moaned at the pressure his penis was putting on me, shuddering all over again.

He found my lips, one hand at my back to hold me up, the other slipping down to his member and- HELLO!

Dean was right there. At the entrance, the tip was in.

OOhmygod.

He moved his head back, one hand finding my right hip, the other cupping my neck, thumb at my jaw line.

He locked eyes with mine, eye-brows up in question.

Did I really need to give him permission again?

I growled another time, "Take me, damn it!"

He slid the rest in.

We gasped out the sexual energy together.

We haven't had sex in years, and I almost forgot how…well endowed he was. Not just with his member, but with the movement of his hips.

He rocked into me, the dresser trembling beneath. The drawers shuddering as much as I was.

Abruptly, he picked me up again and threw me back against the wall, moving into me harder against it. With every plunge inside, we made noises of absolute pleasure, only to be stopped by each other's lips every once in a while.

From the wall we moved to the bed, and after some time there, he climaxed.

With a promise to get mine in round two, we took a small nap.

Round two came around and, man, did he deliver.

The headboard and our neighbors were probably cursing us.

I came when he sat against the headboard, with me straddling him and giving him access to endless boob and clit play.

We orgasimed together while he was rubbing me during, a near minute after my last.

After a few light kisses and spooning, we fell asleep on top of the sheets naked and exhausted.

* * *

Morning came, and went and we woke up in the afternoon.

Sobered up, we turned to each other, remembering everything about the events of the night.

"Hey you." Dean said when we met eyes against our pillows.

I scoffed, "Alright, not another word from you."

"What?" he rejoined quickly, "I'm just-"

"Shut it. Here's how this is gonna go; we're going to take showers, pack up, find the car, get breakfast and search for a case while we eat, then we're gonna go kill some monsters, yeah?"

I left it unsaid that I was laying this out for us because every other time this has happened, we trap ourselves into talking about it after. We always end up getting really awkward or fighting about it, and then we would immediately split company and not see each other for weeks or even years. Like after my Mom died, or when he was going to give himself up to Michael…

I'd be damned if anything like that happened this time. We were still friends, above it all.

"Yes M'am." He saluted me seriously.

"Let's get to it."

I was about to turn away, before he planted a quick kiss on my lips.

Woah. Really unexpected.

At breakfast, I pulled out the laptop.

"Alright…looks like we got some standard spirit stuff-"

"Nah, let's go for the monsters." He shoved bacon into his mouth, "After you said that this morning I got a craving."

I chuckled, slicing up some sausage myself, "Sounds good."

I dove back into the search.

Soon, I found one that fit.

Odessa, Texas seemed to be having the problem of something tearing open chest cavities and feeding on hearts.

We agreed FBI identities would be best. We suited up.

Me in my grey blazer, matching grey slacks, and thick black heels. Under the buttoned blazer I wore a burgundy collared button-up tucked into my pants.

When I came out from the bathroom and saw his suit, I almost insisted that one of us change.

Though his jacket and slacks were a faded shade of black, his undershirt and tie was the same burgundy as mine.

"My other suit is bloody." He protested with a sly grin, "and you look hot, so don't you dare change. We'll be the scary coordinated agents, it'll be great."

Huh.

Where was this Dean after every other time we had sex? Talking to me without awkwardness, complimenting me, flashing me his attractive grins? What was happening?

After the drive, which we blasted some more classics and kept on talking and even picking back up the singing, we got to the city's station.

Before we got out, he flashed me one of many that morning yet again as he showed me his badge name, "Dean Halford."

"In honor of last night." he winked at me, making a clicking noise from the corner of his mouth.

"No way! Wait a minute -" I said, flipping through the photo album that I kept my ID's organized in.

When I found it, I replaced the "Joanna Cronin" FBI ID I was going to use, and showed him my new choice; "Joanna Hill."

"Awesome," He chuckled, "man, you're great."

And he kissed me. On the forehead.

What the damn hell?

After we killed the Lamia from that job, we just kept on rolling, for days, like a well-oiled machine…or not.

On the Lamia job, he unnecessarily jumped in front of my chance at the kill to get at it himself. At first I thought he was just eager to be on the hunt again for anything other than Leviathans, but after our next couple of jobs I got suspicious.

After that we set out for a Banshee in Idaho. I had it cornered, iron blade at the ready, and he pushed me out of the way, as if he were saving me from it.

Then the Harpy in Delaware, which, _he_ and _never_ hunted before. I, having faced one with Robo-Sam before, had the lead on the case and was damn well near chopping it's pretty little head off before Dean took a huge risk and tackled the thing to get it out of my way. Even got all disappointed in himself when he got pinned by it and I saved his ass with a few quick chops through her neck.

He continued his weird behavior in Oklahoma, while a Shtriga was attacking the children in a town there. I was nowhere near in danger from the suckface monster and still Dean acted as if I was a fucking damsel in distress.

After a week, I was fed up.

"Alright, what the hell is happening?" I asked him after we packed up and were about to leave Oklahoma.

We took a break in a park, and opened a couple of beers, sitting on the hood of my car.

"We're kicking ass, is what's happening."

"No, Dean, I'm talking about you treating me like I'm still a novice."

He furrowed his brow, "What do you mean?"

When I explained, he only shrugged, "I guess I'm not used to it. I haven't really hunted with you since…" He trailed off, as if Lisa and Ben's names would hurt me somehow.

I scoffed, "God, Dean."

"What?"

"Aside from that being a total cop-out, you've seen what I can do! You know I can hunt just as well as your or Sam now. Look, I don't need you to white knight me okay? I can handle myself in a hunt. I've done it, really well, might I add, _without_ you for _two years_, Dean."

"White-knight you?" I scoffed, "I don't to that!"

"Uhh-yeah! You have for every single job we've taken this week. It's offending me how you keep trying to protect me, like you think I'm not able."

"What?! Of course I know you're able, Jo. Where the hell are you getting this from?"

"It's the way you're acting, Dean! Every job we've taken on, it's like you think you _have _to do everything yourself! Not only are you exhausting yourself, but you're wasting my skills! We're supposed to work as partners, Dean, that's why partnering up is a thing Hunters do; to _share_ the load, to help _each other_. I mean, God! Is this how you treat Sam? No wonder why you two are always-"

I cut myself off when I met his face.

Oh fuck.

I should really learn when to stop a ramble.

He was completely silent. I could warm my hands from the rage rolling off his body.

"Dean…" I started after a longer stretch of silence than what my ears could stand.

He pushed himself off the Buick's car hood and leaned against it, as if he couldn't stand to be on the same level as me.

"Did you ever even consider," His husk voice started out in a rumble, like the sound before an enormous rock slide, "that I just didn't want you to get hurt? That I couldn't stand the thought of those fucking things putting their claws or whatever the fuck on you? That I would rather get cut up than to see you-than to have you…"

He scoffed, shook his head, "I mean, does that thought ever cross you guys' fucking minds?"

I flexed my jaw. No need to ask who else he was talking about, obviously he was grouping Sam and me together on this.

"Unbelievable." He muttered to himself under breath.

It was so easy to forget how fragile Dean really was. He had such a fear of losing us that he puts himself at risk to make sure nothing could ever happen to us…god damn it.

I guess I understood now.

But I wasn't going to back down, I was right, too. He can't keep taking all the shots because he's afraid we'd get hurt instead of him.

"Can you try and see where I'm coming from? I care just as much about you Dean, I don't want anything horrible to happen to you either-"

Dean, who I knew was already tuning me out, threw a his empty beer bottle into the trash can yards away with more violence than necessary.

It shattered against the rim, and only the lower half of the bottle crashed into the can.

"You know what? You're right Jo, this isn't really working out."

I took a deep breath, grinding my teeth.

"I guess we're no good as partners." His voice was even, but his tone was bitter.

I gulped down the hard lump of emotions, slamming them back from where they came. No way I was going to let him see that even after all this time he could still manipulate my emotions like this.

It always ends up bitter between us, why the hell did I think this was different?

"So I'm gonna go to Raleigh, and take the poltergeist case." He moved around to the Buick's maroon doors, opening them while giving me the malicious avoidance eye. He leaned inside and got his bag, slamming the door and swinging it quickly around his shoulder.

"Dean-" I slid off the hood of my car.

He stood on the other side of the Buick, this time meeting my eyes directly. His reflecting the cruel, cold, nonchalant smirk he wore on his lips.

"No, Jo, You're right, let's just leave it at that alright?"

"Dean just talk to me!"

"'Cause this works so well whenever we try it. See ya, Jo."

He turned and started to walk away.

"Dean! You're really just gonna walk away? Are you fucking serious?!"

He continued to walk.

"Dean!"

He swiveled, to face my direction, but continued to walk backwards as he shouted across the park to me.

"I'll call you."

* * *

**Note: **Ouch. You know he won't, too, that's what really stings...or will he? Anyways; Dean can really be a douche sometimes, yeah?


	19. Jo vs Gadreel

**Disclaimer:** If I haven't made it clear enough, I do not own this show in any way. I am just having some fun. This following fanfiction includes some script and plot-line from the Supernatural episode "Holy Terror'.

Some, if you have read Hunter's Playlist, will recognize this at the last chapter, but from Jo's direct perspective.

* * *

Season 9, Episode 9

* * *

As Dean and Sam disappeared into the hall, I took a breath.

I hoped Dean's plan A to de-possess his brother from the renegade angel would work. Then I wouldn't have to step in with B.

But when did anything ever go according to plan?

Not a few minutes after they left, I heard the deep exchange of voices, then the audible thump of someone hitting the floor.

My bet was on the angel walking out of that room instead of my man.

I turned behind a pillar, hoping for surprise that I wouldn't need.

Kevin walked out from the kitchen placing a book down on the table, and skim through it, just as Sam rushed into the room.

Fuck.

We really should fill more people in about what's going on around here.

"Hey Sam."

My eye peeked out to clock him. He walked slowly in, with deliberation, staring Kevin.

"Hey, do you notice anything a bit off about Dean lately? Between you and me, I'm a little bit worried about him."

He stopped in front of Kevin, my arms and legs twitched in fear.

I had to step in before the angel did anything.

Now.

"Don't worry about Dean. Dean will-"

Sam's hand reached out to Kevin's head, and I rounded the pillar, jerking Kevin's shirt back, out of reach.

"Let's just stay away from Kevin, 'kay Sammy?"

Placing myself between the two, I forced my partner to back up.

"Jo-" Kevin's voice started, confused.

"Run, Kev."

"What is going on?!"

"Nothing new."

I started down the angel in the younger Winchester's body.

"That's not Sam in there."

The angel tilted his head, playing at Sam, "Jo, what are you talking about?"

"Drop it. Dean told me everything. And man, was he was an idiot to let Ezekiel or whoever the hell you are in. But at least he's an idiot with a back-up plan."

"Which would be?"

I made the angel blade in my hand glint along the bunker's shining lights.

"Me."

Ezekiel or whoever, deadpan-ed; "You kill Sam if you kill me."

"Holy shit." Kevin spoke, shocked.

I ignored Kevin's exclamation, hoping he would be smart and make the run while he could.

"See, that's pretty much a non-issue for me. Dean wouldn't be able to do it, but, uh...I know what the real Sam would've wanted. And I don't want to get into it, but I'm kinda stoked I get to beat on his body for a bit, there's still some unresolved issues here."

I gestured between us, smirking.

Confidence is always key.

"Plus, anyone looking to get to Kevin pretty much always has to go through me first."

He gave me the once over, "I am an Angel, Joanna. You are only a human hunter. You cannot believe you will walk away from this fight."

"Mistake two, for you, bud. You _really _don't know what I'm capable of."

I slid out a second Angel sword then, pointing it at him as I spoke. Gathering strength from my stones to give me another, magicked boost against him. There was no way I was going in unprepared.

Big boss fight time.

His arm straightened out quickly, throwing some Angel energy my way.

I turned and deflected it with a blast from the side, skimming off to wind down the hall and shatter a few bulbs behind them.

I quickly mapped strategy; take the fight up and personal so he couldn't pull that angel force shit. It would definitely trump over my magic in a direct opposition.

If I even had a chance at taking down an angel, it had to be fast and hard, and with every bit of magic I had.

I ran at him, low and snaking.

He threw out energy to grip me in telekinesis, but I was close enough for it to miss. Fast, I hit his arm away with a hard forearm, swinging my other to plunge the blade into his side.

The angel blocked it, and I swung around to smash my free-bladed fist to his face.

He rounded right back to lay a palm on my head, which I ducked and avoided, aiming another stab for his side.

He wormed out of its way and I leveled hard, flat foot-ed hitch-kick to his chest instead.

I sharply avoided another one of his fists; if he hit me without my magical shields consciously up; it was a definite K.O. If he laid his palm on me at anytime, my brain would be reduced to juice.

I twirled, facing my back to him, striking up his face with some supernatural force in my fist.

He blocked.

I whirled again and slashed low at his other side abdomen.

A sizzle told me I got him, and I didn't waste time to spin back up and jump simultaneously to get in a magic-enhanced elbow to his side neck.

It connected.

The angel grunted in mild pain and laid his hands on my exposed side.

He pushed me away mightily, and I flew, spinning in the air and crashed to the wooden stands of books. The leather bound novels and wooden shelves clattered down heavily on my body to burry me deeper.

Among the pain throbbing through my bones and skin, I realized he was holding back...and one of my blades dropped somewhere in flight.

Not the time to be facing down sasquatch angel with only one legitimate weapon.

"Only one needs to die, do not make me take you too!" He shouted at me in the painful debris.

Pushing past books, I got to my feet as the Angel moved Sam's body toward a terror-stricken Kevin.

Ignoring the protest of my aching body, I took three lunging steps and got enough momentum to jump and tackle him.

I hit him at an angle, on his shoulders, climbing up to wrap my arms under his pits and twine my fingers together behind his head, forcing his arms up and his hands unable to touch me.

He pounded on the floor, chest-first, and I kept my hold, my knees and elbows smacking wood painfully with all his weight.

"Kevin! GO!" I shouted, strained.

Kevin hesitated, dumfounded and watching his partner struggle with the strongest of all God's creatures. If only he had read the angel tablet.

One blade still in hand, I tried to crane my wrist around to sink into his temple, the point nicking the skin-

Sam's arms gave one violent shake and it wrenched from my fingers unexpectedly.

Now I was really fucked.

No swords equals no kill, and no kill meant he could kill us with just a touch.

I couldn't let that happen.

Before the Angel could move again, I wrapped my leg from behind his upper thigh and hooked my foot under his kneecap.

Rocking forward and putting some magic behind it, I released his arms and rolled to my bottom, the bunker spun.

He flipped, influenced by my sudden momentum, his back to my front; upper-torso repositioned between my thighs.

Quickly, I hooked my left under his left armpit, then swung my same leg up over his head to straighten behind it, both heels catching under his shoulder, his left and right arms now completely constricted by the length of entire body, palms stretched carefully out of grabbing reach.

Thank you jujitsu.

His face lay sideways and pressed into the floor by my weight, and he grunted his annoyance.

As Kevin watched me literally body-bar Sam's arm span, he frantically went for the triangular-shaped blade I dropped in the fight.

"Jo the sword! I can kill him, hold him here!"

The Angel was contracting Sam's muscles, and I was having a harder time to keeping the hold, which was only restraining his arms and wrists.

"NO. Kev."

I could feel his back straightening behind me to get to his knees.

"No, forget it, just get out of here!" I couldn't see Kevin, but I needed him out before the Angel got to his feet and my hold was lost.

Too late.

Sam's tall body was rising, and my weight was now shifted entirely on his back shoulders as he rose. I clung to his arms for Kevin's life.

Kevin, had the blade in hand, and held it up to stab him.

"Enough!" his arms hauled me up, over his head.

"NO!" Kevin moved forward to end it, but the angel threw me down heartily on the wooden table beside us, my leg hitting Kevin and clattering the sword to the floor again.

My spine hit the thick wood of the table, and cashed through the center, cracking it and sticking all sorts of polished jagged splinters protruding into my back. The air was taken from my lungs, and I gasped, tears immediately welled and fell over, my skin burned, blood was leaking from where shards of wood lodged into me, my head was pounding and I was groaning in momentary agony.

Kevin, blade lost, was backtracking and running away from the angel.

"JO!"

My ears fell deaf to the surroundings, but I knew the Angel was already on Kevin.

Blinking blood from my eyes, and trying to overcome my pain for Kevin, I got myself up.

The sword was just beside the table. I forced myself to crawl to it.

My feet and legs unfeeling, I grabbed it, and stumbled as a runner would from starting position, to them.

I didn't hesitate to launch myself at Sam's striding back, blade down and ready to kill.

Somehow, he dodged.

I landed harshly between them, but kept my balance with a wobble. I slashed left, right, then with both hands ran the blade down again in one hopeful, final plunge.

Before I knew what was happening, I felt Sam's massive hands clasp over mine, guiding the momentum as he stepped directly behind me. Together, our hands directed the blade into my stomach, sinking all the way in.

My breath sucked in harshly. I felt my body tense all of my muscles and I leaned into Sam's front.

"JO!" Kevin screamed in terror. He had never seen me take a wound so greavious.

Blood was already pattering lightly to the floor.

I felt my fingers grip the supernatural steel tighter, and saw my knuckles grow white around it, and saw the red immediately soak up my shirt, dripping slow down and spreading on the threads of my jeans.

"Through you it is." Sam's voice sounded in my ear, tickling it sadly, "This is a good death, a warrior's death. I'm sorry, Joanna Beth Harvelle."

He let go of his grip over mine, and stepped away from my back.

"NO!" Two voices screamed as one.

Dean.

Kevin.

I looked up, tears still falling.

A blurred Dean was running up to meet them, but Kevin knew it would be too late. He was so far...

Sam stepped in front of Kevin's view to me, "I'm sorry Kevin Tran."

"KEVIN!" Dean's voice echoed.

I felt nothing but the sword intruding my body, shock covering for most of the agony.

I dropped to my knees, just as Kevin's shout of death reached my ears.

Dean was almost to me, to catch my falling shell of a body-

The angel slammed him with a force-full of energy and held him against the wall behind me.

Deaf to Dean's cries and Sam's serious voice, I fell to my side, and Kevin was there...lying a few feet parallel to mine, his eyes burnt out and body unmoving.

No...

Feeling my body start to go limp, I stared at my partner, my brother, laying dead on the floor, too far for me to say a last good-bye.

I hoped I would see him soon.

The draining blood was spreading to the wood floor, and I felt it trickle past my fingers.

I was dying.

This was it.

The blood was oozing out my mouth now, and the high-pitched resting silence was in my ear, my eyes focusing away from the body in my sight.

Shock.

Something reined me back from it, causing me to feel everything again. A splitting torment that I could only gurgle out my mouth. My lungs were all filled up with blood.

"Jo! Jo, no - CAS! CAS I NEED YOU! Baby, c'mon, you got this, you got it, you're good, just hold on."

Baby? He never calls me that.

My eyes focused again, and I could barely gush out his name.

Head in his hands now...they were so warm...felt so nice...to sleep -

"HEY! C'mon, stay with me!"

He wrenched me back, my eyes open again and the pain returning vengefully.

"Jo..."

I wanted to stay for him.

The pull of peace was too great.

There was too much pain on this side of open eyelids.

But I stayed, and I stared, grueling through the agony until the pull gave me no more choice.

My favorite set of green eyes was the last thing I saw in this world.


	20. An Experience

Note: this chapter follows directly after the events of the last, which isn't usual for this fic, I know, but I just couldn't stop typing!

* * *

Season 9

* * *

I woke up to the excruitiating clamour of voices crammed suddenly and forecfully into my eardrum.

Standing up, my hands immediately flew up to cover my ears.

It didn't help.

It felt like a pressing silence, only it was a mess of people vaguely shouting and screaming about, as if it were the normal resting pace of the air surrounding..

Fuck, it hurt.

I wouldn't be surprised if they were bleeding.

At that thought, I checked.

None.

Were was everyone?

"GUYS?"

I could barely hear myself over it all. And I sure wasn't helping by adding to the noise.

I kept my fingers tightly clamped over my ears, it didn't do much, but it was more or less muffled.

Where the fuck am I?

The bunker.

Good, I was in a safe place.

At least I think.

Judging by the noise, someone or something had infiltrated and brought the endless chatterboxes with them.

Once I find Kevin and Dean and Sam we would fight it and kick it's ass out of here before our eardrums burst from all the noise.

I think I remember working a case like this back when Mom and I hit the road together...yes! The fucking Jabber in Pensacola, Florida. It was a monster disguising itself as birds that follow it's prey and would literally talk non-stop until your brains exploded out your ears and they could eat the remains.

But the Jabber was just one voice, continually talking until the target's brains were juiced.

This noise right now was a crazy collision of voices, all vibrating my ears from all sides, all tones, and all the ranges of emotion.

They must have learned how to step up their game to maximize their eats. Or a flock of them.

And they found their way into the bunker.

Wonderful.

But...I woke up on the floor...

What the fuck do I remember last?

Nothing.

Why did I wake up in the middle of the library?

No idea.

The more I looked around the more disturbed I became.

It was so dark, the lights, what happened to them?

And why the hell were there bookcases broken? And the solid wood table split in the middle?

And there was blood...a lot of blood staining the floor.

There was a fight here. Someone got hurt. Badly.

In the fatally kind of way.

Panic erupted At that thought.

"DEAN?"

I rushed around the bunker, trying not to let the constant stream of voices get to me.

"KEVIN?"

Erratically freaked, I jumped onto the steel rounding staircase and clamored up them. There, I looked down onto the scene, giving myself a higher viewpoint to see any response from someone. I had to see something. Anything.

"SAM?"

No one came to my calls.

As if they could hear me.

The bunker laid out scarier than being down in it moments before. The light bulbs were shattered, bits of glass sprayed the busy wooden floor. Everything was broken and tousled, the book cases behind the tables were splintered, the books scattered chaotically, adding to the blood still gleamed in the darkness, giving off an ominously oily look, like a well driven road in the rain.

Concentrate. Now.

Alright. There was no blood trail, just the large puddle of it and scuff marks where someone's boots had stepped in it. It was smeared, maybe a couple of feet from the terrifying pool of blood. Other than that, the trail disappeared.

No body. Someone had taken whomever it was, hopefully to help.

But who?

And who the hell had we fought?

Why did no one wake me?

I rooted myself there, grinding my teeth to rid the voices away while I tried to gather my thoughts.

C'mon, Jo, think!

Not answer to any of the questions I asked myself arose from memory.

Fuck!

Maybe I could remember if there wasn't so much noise. It was just too much to think over.

I squeezed my eyes tight, growling, as if that would make them go away.

"Shut the fuck UP!" I shouted.

"They're just as frightened as you, yelling at them will do no good."

The voice rang clearly, into my ears, above all the others.

I turned my head and immediately met the dark eyes of another woman. She stood by the front door, arms crossed and body poised languidly. Her long, deeply browned hair smoothed neatly to end at her upper back. Her clothing opposed her looks; ragged and shabby. Her black leather jacket was worn and gray harshly at the creases, mostly at the elbows.

It was strange; her presence seemed to turn the frequency of the voices down some if she was casting out her own channel, fading the rest into the background.

There was a gaunt look to her, but not in her flesh or body...but in her eyes. The woman was deprived of a soulful nutrition.

I opened my mouth.

"I'm a reaper." she completed my question before it was asked.

"Why-"

"You're dying, Joanna."

I scoffed,

"What the fuck did I drink before bed?"

And began to laugh.

"This isn't a dream." The reaper's voice was as hallow as the light in her irises.

"Clever stuff, which cheesy movie is my brain borrowing that from?"

My imagination was hardly amused. Her face remained completely neutral.

"Alright," I continued when she did not speak again, "Who are 'they' anyway?"

I gestured weakly to the air.

Her lips were the only part of her to respond, "Human souls, wandering in the Veil."

I lifted my brow,

"Oh, right, I'm dead." I laughed, jokingly.

Mid breath, I suddenly dropped into a serious thought, "You're who we were fighting."

I tensed and stepped back from her, reaching for the angel blade strapped to my belt.

It wasn't there. It was always there.

Fuck.

The dark-haired reaper remained un-phased, "You weren't fighting me."

"Like I'm gonna-"

"Think back, Joanna. Really concentrate, and remember what happened here."

I gave her a weary gaze.

"It should be easier now, that I'm here."

Uneasy still, I turned back to the edge of the railing, and started to step back down the stairs, eyes fixed on the scene to jumpstart the process.

She followed, gliding, behind me.

I dug deep, each step down was like a step back into the hours before.

I remember Dean's face ; his lips admitting a grievous mistake.

I remember Sam's eyes, cold and blue.

I remember Kevin's terror, his scream of my name.

I remember my back breaking the bookcase, my body splitting the table, the angel in Sam's body pushing the blade deep inside my gut...

By the time my boot hit the wood I was crying, gasping, feeling the hole were the weapon had pierced me.

I remember lying there, I remember Kevin - dead. Eyes charred from the inside out.

I remember the pain, overwhelming.

I remember green eyes pleading for me to stay.

My feet carried me to the great pool of blood; my blood.

"I'm dead." my voice broke, believing it all at once, accepting her truth.

Oh my god.

This was not a dream.

The tears fell easily over.

"Not yet." The reaper spoke softly.

"But you-"

"Said you were dying, not dead yet."

"Where's Kevin?" I snapped.

"You will see him soon enough."

"KEVIN?"

"He's in the Veil, Jo. He's dead."

"Why-"

"You aren't in the Veil. Like I said, you're not dead yet."

"Then where the fuck am I huh? Why can I HEAR THEM?" I screamed at her in extreme anger.

Again, the reaper was frustratingly collected, "We are in your subconscious, Jo. You are close to crossing over, and therefore easier for you to pick up the...frequency."

I took some long moments to process this, bouts of emptiness struck me wrenchingly.

"No." I finally said, "No. You said I'm not dead yet."

I can fix this.

I can come back.

I can fight this.

"You're not."

"How long?"

"It takes hours to bleed out from the abdomen. Dean has delayed that already, but he will not be able to stop infection from spreading. If one does not kill you first, the other will quickly take its place. Your situation has not changed."

Dean.

"He's...I heard him, I _h__eard him p_raying to Cas. He'll bring me back! He's done it before and he can do it again."

"Castiel's wings are clipped. He will not reach you and Dean in time."

I stared her down, feeling my soul sink deep, "You don't know that."

The reaper, again, did not respond.

All my feelings welled up, curling and hardening like a fist for the punch. Her calm angered me, her unwillingness to be helpful infuriated me, her very being made me livid.

My voice rose far above hers, "So what, I'm just supposed to give up and go with you?Just let you reap me to Heaven?! Fucking forget it, I'M NOT GOING ANYWHERE!"

She blinked, "You're right."

"What?" I snarled.

"I can't take you to heaven. It's closed off, sealed from entry."

My eyes blanked open to her, shocked.

She continued, her voice harrowing, "That's why you hear so many souls in the Veil. No one has been able to ferry them. Metatron's slammed the doors of afterlife in their faces."

I took that in like a blow to the lungs.

"Kevin...he's stuck...he can't-"

She shook her head, meeting my eyes.

A chill crept over my soul as another, darker thought let itself in, "Then you're here to take me to Hell?"

"No."

"Then why are you here?" I demanded firmly, the anger I felt still heavily directed at her.

The reaper met my eyes straightforward, "I took a personal interest. We aren't...we aren't called to reap anymore, but when I felt you slipping, and him fighting for you... I felt obligated to come."

"Why? I don't even know you."

"Nor I you. But we have a mutual friend."

"Dean."

She nodded.

It made sense. With how many times that man had escaped death, I wasn't surprised that he had become familiar with a reaper.

It started as a low growl, then quickly I screaming suddenly, opening my valves to the air, splitting my frustrations.

"It's not FAIR! HOW THE FUCK HAVE THEY GOTTEN AWAY WITH IT ALL THIS TIME? I'VE ONLY BEEN BROUGHT BACK ONCE! ONCE, AND NOW ITS OVER? I HAVE SO MUCH STILL TO DO, I - I have to - get that fucking angel out of S-sam and kick Metatron's ass and-and get Kevin to heaven and help Dean with it all! He's alone now- he's - he's alone..."

My outburst didn't affect her in the least. The reaper just continued to observe me blankly, as if there were no purpose to it all.

"There is nothing I can do for you, Joanna."

I started up the laughter again, high, rasped, and flowing with tears, "There's nothing new about that. That was my whole life."

I closed my eyes, feeling the impending doom for having just referred to my life in the past tense. As if it were already over.

Would I really give up on myself that easily?

Was I just going to let myself die?

Was there anything I could actually do about it?

We remained silent for a short while, letting the murmur of voiced souls creep back into the empty air between us.

"I can take you to Kevin now, if you'd like."

I turned to her, swallowing harshly.

"Into the Veil?"

"Yes."

"I'd die."

"Yes."

I contemplated that for a moment.

"No."

I rolled my lips over my teeth, and dragged a hand through my hair, letting the tears keep rolling on over.

"I can't. If I go with him, I'm stuck too. I wouldn't be able to help him to get him back...I can't so that. I can't just give up. I have to wait, to give Cas and Dean a chance to get me..."

The reaper took a step closer to me, the closest she had ever been since our meeting, and lay a gentle hand on my shoulder.

I didn't shake it off.

It felt nice.

"You are still connected to your body, Jo. You'll still experience everything that is happening to you in the physicall world. It will be excruciating."

"I know."

"If you go with me now, it will be done. I know it is no improvement, but it is all I can do to help you."

I shook my head, eyes down at first, then lifted to meet her dark eyes.

"I'm staying."

A small smirk pricked up the reaper's corner mouth, but it lived only seconds long on her lips before they returned to a deadened, flat nature.

Her palm slid off my shoulder, but she did not step away.

Another silence settled over us.

I sniffed loudly, "Did you say this was my subconscious?"

Though the tears were still flowing, it seemed I was able to speak properly.

"Yes."

"Then why are we here, at my death scene?"

"That's a question for yourself."

I scoffed.

"I think it shows how present of a person you are." The reaper spoke, surprisingly, "That the second you lost consciousness, your subconscious placed you directly back into the situation, so as not to forget. It's rare. Many minds circle automatically backward, searching for some meaning in their past, almost accepting their fate before they even really grasp that they are dying. And you place yourself where you were last, defying the very acceptance of your death, all the while concerned for the well being of those you love."

"Your making that sound so great. I don't think it is. If I'm gonna die, I want to remember my life, like everyone else. Good times, bad times, the good people, the bad people...they make up who I am, you know?"

The pain was so sudden I almost had no time to react. Suddenly, I was doubled over.

A twisting, a burning...bubbling and leaking. Pain bored it's way deep into my gut, clenching everything and releasing all control of every nerve. It was raw, so unbelievably sore. And something scorching kept picking and eating away at it.

I didn't cry out, I ground my teeth, breath stolen and feeling as though I should curl up into a ball.

The reaper crouched to my level, laying both hands on either shoulder this time, and the pain ebbed somewhat.

"Don't you dare." I grunted through it to her, trough bared teeth.

"Let me take you into your memories." she spoke gently, as if to coax me away from my physical connection, "Let me give you that experience, show you who you are."

I swallowed, and nodded, the pain decreasing by the second.

She stood, and extended her palm.

I stood, and reached out, clasping her hand - and was immediately wrenched upward, yanked, as if by a string.

I felt a vaguely familiar upheaval, choppy and senseless, nothing was made of matter or even existed around me. I was entering a void, a terrifying limbo, through the abyss-

And then I was slammed entirely back into the physical world.

* * *

My mouth was gaping, and I was coughing up dired blood. My tounge and eyes were dry, my cheeks wet, and my body stiff.

An amazing set of blue eyes stared down at mine.

"Cas..." I sputtered out unthinking, "I told you so."

He cocked his head, eyes alight, "What have you told me?"

Confused, I felt the flood of wooziness roll my eyes back.

"Jo, easy, easy." Another voice sounded.

"Dean." I spoke weakly.

He laughed in a way that relieved an extreme amount of built-up stress, "God damn it Jo."

"God had nothing to do with this."Cas's deep voice corrected, "Joanna, what do you remember last?"

I opened my eyes again, this time to stare up at a set of brooding green ones, with prominent lines of red standing out against the whites.

"I...I don't..."

"It's alright, Jo, don't worry about it." Dean rushed to reassurance.

Cas's eyes glinted frustratingly to his friend's, and though it was short, I didn't miss it.

Breathing out his name, the angel turned his attention solely back to me, 'What happened?"

I caught another look thrown between the two, this time Dean gave it.

"Dean was able to - seal your wound. I erased the infection, though am unable to replenish your blood..." He trailed off uncharacteristically, eyes falling away from mine and instead to my gut, "You lost a large amount of it, but the human body is resilient. With days in rest, you'll be recovered."

My wound.

The unknown angel stabbed me - right.

It was all foggy, but still, I remembered the events.

I tilted my head down to look at it, since Dean's hands seemed close to pinning me down if I tried to sit up again.

My shirt was lifted to the bra-line, exposing my entire abdomen- and there it was. A large, triangular shape gouge, melted over by burnt and crisp skin.

Cauterized.

So that's how he sealed it.

The sight of my body in such a state invoked an automatic upheaval, but it was too drained of energy, so instead I was stuck with the nausea mixing itself in with my general faintness.

"We have to make that fucking angel the second one in Hell." I rasped.

Dean chuckled light, forceful and short before his hard voice set it, "No 'we' in this. I'm dealing with it. You gotta rest."

A realization struck me suddenly; someone was missing.

My eyes closed, and behind them an image seared into mind, like my closed wound. Eyes charred from the inside out, laying there on the floor, an arm's length out of my reach...

Remembering his death added to the mixture of my despair, though I could hardly produce tears.

"Kevin."

Dean's eyes deadened and immediately cast downward at the name.

Even Cas took in the emotional cue, eyes averting in a slight sadness, "He will be missed."

I was shaking, feeling the absence of his physical presence tear at my heart, my mind. I knew he was dead, and that explained these feelings, but there was something…something I was missing.

A nagging sense, almost as if my soul was trying to tell me something, to communicate something about Kevin I had forgotten. I felt a constant anxiety, as if I needed to save him still, to get to him somehow.

But of course, there was nothing.

He was gone.

And that was it.


End file.
